The Charlatans of Burbank Avenue
by keem
Summary: UPDATE 05-17. "Do you think of him when we kiss, Naomi?" B asked her huskily, as they broke apart. "Because I do." BxNaomixL, slight BxL. Ongoing. R
1. i'm a part of a degenerate elite

**A/N: **forgive me, i just wanted to see if i could. PG-13 for now; rating has the potential of going up later. Expect (in future chapters): language, deviance, my inability to write B properly, rampant BxNaomi, LxNaomi, and even a smattering of LxB (or BxL, depending how you spin it). This is just the prelude leading into a much bigger, more intricately-woven mess. Please r&r, and as always, enjoy.

--

**The Charlatans of Burbank Avenue**

--

"_What is the difference between love and obsession? Didn't both make you stay up all night, wandering the streets, a victim of your own imagination, your own heartbeat? Didn't you fall into both, headfirst into quicksand? Wasn't every man a fool and every woman a slave?_

_Love was like rain: it turned to ice, or it disappeared. Now you saw it, now you couldn't find it no matter how hard you might search. Love evaporated, obsession was realer; it hurt, like a pin in your bottom, an stone in your shoe. A morning phone call filled with regret. A letter that said 'Dear you, goodbye from me'. Obsession tasted like something familiar. Something you'd known your whole life. It settled and lurked; it stayed with you."_

_- _Alice Hoffman

--

**.prologue.**

--

Atascadero State Hospital was maximum security forensic facility, which was basically a fancy way of saying that it was a mental hospital for the clinically insane. Its population was composed entirely of males, and had a holding capacity of up to 1,001 inmates. The facility housed a mixture of criminals, from mentally disordered offenders to sexual violent predators. Despite the wide range of crimes, and varying degrees of insanity within the population, Atascadero State Hospital remained peaceful, orderly. There were lots of success stories that were borne out of imprisonment here - scores of patients who had been considered successfully treated, successfully "reformed." The hospice's expert staff prided themselves in their ability to restore order in people's lives - to change them, _mold_ them into model citizens that are eventually able to be released back into society.

Beyond Birthday was one of those people.

On paper, anyway. He had a nice little folder that had been thoroughly reviewed, and then stamped with a shiny seal of approval. B was considered "cured" - declared perfectly sane and fit to be reintroduced back into the outside world, after years of intensive therapy. The doctors had been impressed with his progress, elated by it, convinced of their own brilliance and their _science_.

B had showed feelings of intense remorse in his later years of hospitalization, feelings of regret - he had _grieved_ over the innocent lives he had taken away, had _mourned_. This was a positive thing, in the eyes of the panel of psychiatrists, and ultimately the thing that assured him his freedom, in the end; the thing that had given them the conviction they needed in order to release him.

After the announcement had been made to B, he felt euphoric, dizzy with delight. He had thanked his team of psychiatrists eagerly and earnestly, shaking and re-shaking their hands as he beamed at them through the scarred lines of his face. _Freedom_. He thought the day would never come. He spent the next few days in a dazed but excited stupor, eagerly awaiting his dismissal from that dismal place.

And finally, the day had arrived. October 31st.

_L's birthday_, B thought, and he had to bite back the smile of maniacal glee that threatened to overtake his features. A trace of it must have lingered, however, as the pretty little nurse escorting him down the hospital glanced back at him and smiled, clearly getting the wrong impression.

"Excited?" she asked him, as the two of them waited at a bus stop where B was to be picked up from.

"Oh, very," he purred back at her, his hands clasped in front of him in a portrait of boyhood innocence. That nurse soaked it right up, just the way B had expected her to. Ever since his admittance into the facility, she had proved to be his biggest supporter, easily charmed by his carefully articulated mannerisms. He appreciated her patronage, however misguided it may have been - truly, it was _her _adamance that B genuinely was a good person - deep down within himself - that led to this glorious moment, his re-immersion back into society. He supposed he owed a lot to her, which was partially what prompted him to say what he did next, as the bus rumbled up to the curb:

"Cassandra Watson," he said, gathering her hands up in his own and smiling down at her. "Thank you for all you've done for me. Take good care of yourself, okay? And do be especially careful on November fourteenth, will you?"

She nodded, appearing mildly confused as she did so. B knew that the warning would do her no good; the numbers that were scrawled above her head were permanent and unyielding in their red brilliance - death could not be deterred, no matter what B tried. Still, he felt lighter on his feet; felt as though he done his part, his "civic duty", if you will. Satisfied with his endeavor, he gathered up his belongings and waved back to the nurse as stepped inside the bus.

As B stared contentedly out the window, watching the scenic hillsides go rushing gently past, he thought of his mentor, his rival, his obsession. _Happy birthday, L, _he thought fondly. _By this time next year I promise I'll have something truly spectacular to give you as a present. Something you won't ever forget._

And B had to stifle his giggle into the sleeve of his coat, in order to prevent himself from being overheard.


	2. would you mind if i killed you?

**A/N:** …aaaand i supposed we should give this fic a proper introduction, hm?

_The Charlatans of Burbank Avenue_ (hereafter referred to as CBA) is my devious little brainchild, an half-baked idea i've been toying around with for some time now. it's (obviously) AU, and because of it, i feel at ease with taking a few (or maybe _more_ than a few xD) artistic liberties. it's also my first time writing B, who i adore but have an incredibly hard time characterizing. so ehh... mixed results up in here.

i love feedback! i also love it when people point out glaring errors to me (like me mistyping Naomi's name like 328947239874+3 times last chapter. thanks, Anon!). nobody betas my stuff, and i frequently skim over things. so please, feel free to point out errors! in fact, i encourage it!

thanks to everyone who commented, fav'd, and alerted me for the last chapter! you guys are awesome!

--

The apartment B had rented was dilapidated and run-down, dank and dusty. The successor was greeted with the smell of mold and mildew as he entered, the front door creaking in protest as he pushed it open. Something went skittering across his path as he felt along the wall for a light.

"Damp and cold and infested with rats. Home sweet home, henh henh henh," B said, giggling to himself. He found a switch nearby, and flipped it experimentally. Nothing happened. B frowned in the darkness, his fingers gliding across the wall as he edged further into the room, searching. Eventually B _did_ encounter a switch that really worked, and the room was thereafter bathed in obtrusive, unflattering white light.

B glanced around the flat. There was a lumpy, hideous looking couch in the center of it, covered in a thin layer of dust and filth. To the right of it was an overturned coffee table, battered and swathed in cobwebs. To the left was the dingy little kitchen, its walls adorned with yellowed, peeling wallpaper. B peered over the top of the counter and saw the edge of an ancient looking refrigerator in the corner.

"Hopefully _that_ works," B said, thinking of his strawberry jam. As soon as he was able, he planned to go out and stock up on his favorite meal. But right now he had other things he needed to do first. The dark-haired genius glanced away and down the hallway just before him. At the end of it he could see a door, which he had been previously told would lead into the bedroom. On the left side, just before it, he could see another door, and B deduced that it most likely belonged to a bathroom. He approached it, twisting its rusted handle and peering curiously inside.

It _was_ the bathroom. Mercifully, the light in there worked as well. A medicine cabinet was bolted haphazardly to the wall opposite to the shower, just above the toilet. Directly in front of B was a mirror, with an enormous crack that ran in the center of it, splitting B's reflected image into two halves. The dark haired man dropped his duffle bag on the floor beside the sink as he peered into the reflection it presented thoughtfully.

A stranger stared back at him, a scarred man with shaggy, shoulder-length hair and inquisitive, glittering orbs. A man who did not look L at all.

"No, no," B said, leaning forward so that he could examine his features more critically. "This will most certainly _not _do."

He had gained weight during his stint in prison. B had always been a little bit broader in the shoulders than L, a little sturdier – but since his imprisonment it had gotten _worse_. And although B was not fat by any means, his face was rounder now, more fuller. _We'll have to fix that. _B sighed, and moved on.

Much to his dismay, B saw that the hollowed out look of his eyes, borne out of many sleepless nights, had also gone away. B's circles were gone, his shadows having long since receded. _Wrong, all wrong, L would never look so healthy, so well-rested. _His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to nitpick.

The most obvious change: the scars. Before the fire, B's own appearance had been carefully manipulated so that he looked remarkably like L. The resemblence was so uncanny that they could have been brothers, or better. _Twins. Duplicates. Clones. I could have almost _been _you_, _at least from a distance._ But now that B's face had been marred, there was no mistaking the differences, the obvious distinguishes.

_Massacre Misora, your namesake is written all over my face. _B thought, his fingers clenching the edge of the porcelain sink his knuckles went white. _It's your fault that I'm here right now, still wretchedly alive. It's your fault that my plan - so perfect, so grand – ultimately failed._

Then, just as quickly as the anger began, it ended. B let his features soften, neutralize. The face staring back from the mirror was passive, indifferent almost.

_That's right. L would never look so _angry.

"We shouldn't let ourselves get so worked up," B cooed encouragingly. "These things happen for a Reason. I can make use of this." He nodded to himself, apparently satisfied, and a fall of limp, oily-looking strands fell into his face. The crease in his brow appeared again almost immediately, his lips pursing before he could quite help himself. B felt himself growing vexed with his falling out of character yet _again_, but then he abruptly let it go. He was out of practice; after all, he hadn't been playing the part for several years. Slip-ups in the facade were bound to happen – they were entirely plausible and moreover, expected.

_The hair is all wrong, too. I haven't been to a proper hairdresser in ages. _"Fortunately, this particular little detail is easy to rectify," B mused contentedly, and reached down to unzip his bag. He produced a pair of scissors, the harsh lighting of the bulb overhead causing its point to glint maliciously.

His eyes trained upon his twin in the mirror, B lifted the scissors and pressed the sharp edge of it against his face, pushing down hard enough to leave an imprint but not forcefully enough to draw blood. He dragged it down over one closed eyelid and across his left cheek. "Too bad I can't simply cut your skin off, and wear it instead, L," he murmured, as he brought it down in a sweeping motion over his Adam's apple. Then he drew it away from his pale skin, lifting his arm lazily above his hand and grabbed a handful of bangs in the front. _Snip, snip_. The first strands began to fall, and B started to laugh.

--

A few days later found Naomi Misora taking a shortcut through an alley after dark.

The scene was familiar, B recalled, as he watched from the recesses of the nearby shadows. _Does the girl never learn, or is she just really that confident in her abilities? _B thought as he shook his head in dismay. _She might know martial arts, which could throw off your average mugger, but capoeira will hardly stop a _bullet_._

Then again, B thought, as he peered intently at the scarlet numbers scrawled above her head. Maybe it _could_.

_No, your time is not yet, Massacre Misora_… _but I can see the end of your life, and it's coming soon, regardless… I'm going to work this into my new plan, going to use this information to my advantage…_

He bit down on the edge of his knuckles to prevent from laughing out loud and blowing his cover. He winced as he drew blood. _A little overzealous, methinks._

At the back of the alley was a seven foot wall, which separated this property from the apartment buildings next door, where Misora lived. B stole away after her, his arms thrown out on other side of him, bracing him against the wall as he side-stepped along.

He kicked a pebble, and ducked behind a trashcan as Misora whipped around so fast she probably gave herself vertigo. She stared, hard, into the darkness, and B amusedly saw her reach up and rub her arms, as though suppressing an involuntary shudder. B's eyesight was good but not _that_ good, but he could imagine the goose-bumps there, the tiny soft hairs prickling on her neck as she was overcome with a case of the heebie-jeebies.

_Like someone walked over your grave._

Then she turned back around and reached up on her tip-toes, grabbing the top of the wall and lifting herself up. She paused at the crest of it, glancing backwards once again, before vaulting effortlessly into the darkness on the other side. B saw a flash of dark, onyx-colored hair in the moonlight as she fell out of sight completely.

He would savor that look of unmasked fear, when she had first turned around. That slight widening of the eyes, the parted 'o' shape of her pink lips. _That's right, I'm watching you, mwe he he he._ Misora had only gotten more beautiful since B was away - she was softer around the edges than before, less ram-rod straight; although she still wore that severe looking slash across her face that posed as her mouth.

_So angry, Misora_, B thought wistfully, still staring at the wall before him as though expecting her to pop out from behind it at any moment. _You really ought to smile more._


	3. hate: i really, really don't like you

**A/N:** I would like to apologize for how absurdly _long_ this chapter took to come out. Honestly, I've been regarding this fic with a certain amount of apprehension and dread: not that it's a chore or anything, since the coming chapters are delightfully perverse and enjoyable to write, but it's getting to them that's the problem xD

Thanks to everyone who left me reviews, and those who took it a step further and put me on their favorite's and alerts! There's a lot of lurkers, it seems, but I don't mind in the slightest. :D Please let me know what you think, and I'll try to be a little more punctual in the future! I hate to keep you all waiting.

Enjoy!

--

"So does _Raye_ know you're having late-night interludes with L on the sly?"

Naomi startled so badly she dropped the peach she was examining in the produce aisle. The former FBI agent turned around to face the sound of the familiar voice, only to find herself face-to-face with the stooped figure of a ghost come back to haunt her. L's doppelganger stood smiling before her, his crimson eyes twinkling in mischief, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded, tattered-looking jeans.

She took in his form with wide-eyed horror. It took her a moment to recover, and when she regained her bearings, her gaze perceptibly hardened as her fists clenched at her side. "_Beyond_."

"I suppose the days of Rue Ryuuzaki are over, hm?" Beyond inquired, almost wistfully, looking completely nonplussed by her open display of hostility. "Now that the cat's out of the bag, and all."

"What are _you _doing here?" Naomi asked, shouldering her purse uncomfortably, glancing around. The grocery store was relatively populated during this time of the day, but this particular section of the market was completely devoid of human life, save her, this maniac, and one of stock-boys to her far left. "I thought you had been institutionalized."

"Released with a clean bill of mental health," Beyond responded cheerfully, before his brilliant scarlet optics very brazenly looked her up and down. "You're looking well," he added, openly leering at her curves.

"Can't say the same for you," she responded in a barely concealed snarl.

"Third degree burns will do that to you," Beyond agreed, in that same unaffected tone that made her hackles raise. "Easier to differentiate us now, I'd imagine," he continued to muse, still smiling up into her glowering features. "But I think the scars give me character - an _edge_, if you will. What do you think? Do I look _dangerous_?"

_I think you look like a moron,_ Naomi didn't bother to stay. "What are you doing here, Beyond? Have you been stalking me? How do you know about Raye? Or_ L?" _Her eyes narrowed even more, until they were scarcely more than slits in the center of her face.

"Now let's not jump to conclusions," B said, extending his arms out before him, palms-up, in a show of innocence. This was not a very convincing gesture, coming from a crazy serial killer with an inferiority complex. Naomi continued to regard him mistrustfully as he continued, "I'm not stalking you, Naomi, I simply tend to be very observant. Part of the reason why I'm a very good detective." When Naomi continued to look unconvinced, he elaborated: "I remember Raye from the trial; he had his arm around you when they read the verdict, if I do recall correctly. And if you're wondering how I knew his _name_--" B pressed on insistently, interrupting the string of protests Naomi was on the verge of issuing. "--He's been on the news since then, doing an interview for some big drug bust down in Atlanta. I connected the name with the face. Hardly rocket science." He shrugged his shoulders. "And as for L, I didn't know he was _really_ in town, but I do _now_, judging by your reaction."

Naomi's usually pallid features were flaming pink.

"You have a lovely blush, Naomi."

Naomi bypassed red and went straight to maroon. "If you really think I believe you when you say us living in such close proximity to one another is simply a coincidence, then--"

"So arrogant, Misora," B said with that same maddening simper. "To think that I would come to Burbank solely for the opportunity to get in touch with _you_. Yes, a coincidence, although a happy one at that. Allow me me to extend my sincerest apologies to you, for causing you and L so much grief in the past. Perhaps I could make it up to you, over dinner, let's say?"

"Are you joking?" Naomi took a step back in surprise. "_No_."

"Too forward, then?" B frowned. "Can you blame me for asking, given the present company? You're remarkably beautiful, Naomi. Even more-so than I remember. And you've lost weight. Hopefully not due to stress?"

"That's none of your business," Naomi snapped, fiddling with the strap of her purse. Her fingers were itching for a weapon, something she could throw at this deranged man before making her getaway. She did not buy his so-called innocent act for a second. Something about B screamed _off_, even now, and Naomi trusted Beyond about as far as she could throw him. Which, given the differences in height and weight, probably wasn't very far.

"So how does Raye feel about these little midnight rendezvous?"

"Raye is away on business, and it's certainly none of his concern," Naomi scowled as B's smile grew even larger, exposing rows of white, pointy teeth, "as L and my engagements are purely professional."

B lifted his eyebrows in a over-exaggerated display of curiosity. "Professional engagements, hm? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"If you must know," Naomi continued stiffly. "L has hired me to teach him capoeira."

She had thought this revelation would shut B up; on the contrary, he threw back his head and howled with laughter, successfully drawing the attention of an elderly couple who had just stepped into the produce section. Naomi shot him a filthy look, and B obligingly covered his mouth with his hand, trying to vain to stifle the noise. The sound of his elated snorts annoyed her _endlessly_, and Naomi continued to glare at him angrily until he could finally compose himself.

"I'm sorry," B said, although he didn't look so in the slightest. "I just find the fact, despite the fact that L could afford the best trainer money could buy, he chose _you_ to teach him capoeira. Not that I'm not undermining your ability, Naomi—" he rectified quickly, as she fixed him with an infuriated, highly affronted look. "—I'm sure you're very good. But, _really_."

"He chose me because he _trusts_ me," Naomi tried to reason. "He can't risk compromising the integrity of his position to another outsider. He doesn't need to know everything; he's just interested in the basics. And he has a very limited window of opportunity, given the workload—"

"Doesn't it strike you as _odd_ that L would choose capoeira, of all things, to take an interest in? I mean, it's a relatively obscure branch of martial arts, and not really all that practical, considering his prior knowledge in terms of self-defense. Shouldn't he have started out with something a little more… manageable?"

"L is doing excellent, _actually_."

"No need to get so angry, Misora," B all but purred, learning forward. "I'm simply commenting on the unusual choice. You should consider it compliment, if anything. Clearly, L is rather taken with you."

"He was impressed by our fight in the alley, that's all," Naomi muttered, shying away from his face, hovering so uncomfortably near to her own.

"Oh, I'm sure." B snorted again, this time with disbelief. "So modest! What's the harm in admitting that maybe, just maybe, L fancies you? Is that really so awful?"

"Beyond, I'm _engaged_."

"As if that ever stopped a man before." Eyes lit up with delight, he added, "Naomi, you're blushing again."

Naomi didn't say anything. This conversation had already dragged on long enough; it was time to make her leave of this man. As if sensing her approaching departure, Beyond's hand suddenly reached out, settling on the former FBI agent's shoulder before she could sidestep out of the way. She looked at where his mottled fingers clasped her arm, entirely too close to her throat for her personal liking. She was only vaguely aware that he was speaking again.

"You know what? Forget dinner." She looked up and their gazes met, russet browns with unnerving crimsons. Naomi fought the urge to blink. "How about a little friendly sparring match? For old time's sake?'

"Last time wasn't a sparring match," Naomi reminded him.

"No, last time I was trying to bludgeon you with a baseball bat," B agreed pleasantly. "No weapons this time. I'll admit I don't have any prior knowledge concerning capoeira, but I _have_ practiced a fair amount of jujutsu in my spare time, so it should be a pretty even match."

_As if. _Still, the idea of breaking B's pride, spirit, _and_ body was too inviting of an opportunity to simply pass up. "Okay. But we can't use the studio L and I have been using for practice; he's got it on loan from someone. And honestly, I don't want you within a hundred foot radius of that place."

"Sacred, is it?" B teased. "Fair enough. You name the time and the place, then. Anywhere will suffice. We hardly need a dojo to _spar_."

Naomi met his gaze again, and wondered if there were any misgivings of his own behind those brilliant scarlet irises. Maybe, but Naomi was still absolutely certain she could take him in a fair fight. "Your place, then."

He lifted his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

She wasn't. Going to B's home – no, she wasn't sure if she was okay with that at _all._ She would rather invite the enemy into her home, and be on familiar turf, if she really had to choose. "No, _my_ place." There was no point in trying to hide; if he had been watching her, surely he already _knew_.

"If you insist. Your terms, after all. But we wont be disturbing the neighbors, I hope…?"

Boy, could she spin _that_ any which way. "We won't be bothering anyone; I live on the second story, but the apartment below me is vacant. And we're remodeling the guest bedroom, so it's pretty empty – lots of open room. There's someone on the floor above me, but they won't be bothered by the noise unless someone starts screaming." Her look was undeniably smug.

"Afraid I'll try to kill you, Misora?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"I wasn't trying to kill you back there, you know," B admonished, as though offended. "I was merely gauging your skill."

_Sure_. "I'm not afraid of you, Beyond," Naomi felt compelled to say. "I'm simply trying to dissuade any homicidal urges before I let you step foot into my home. Such advances could be potentially problematic."

"Indeed? I could always bring a gun, and shoot you in the doorway," B offered.

"Yes, because gunfire is _very_ inconspicuous," Naomi said, shaking her head ruefully.

"Maybe I don't care about getting caught. Maybe I'm just out for revenge, and luring you into a trap under false pretenses," B continued reasonably.

"I assume you'd prefer a more personal approach."

"You know what they say about when people assume, right?"

"I'll take my chances."

"See, this is why I like you so much," B sighed, regarding her in apparent fascination. He shook his head slowly, admiringly. "A shame you quit the FBI, Misora. They've certainly lost someone incredible. Although I daresay playing housewife has made you a little… reckless."

That particular comment stung. Naomi did her best to shrug in a show of indifference, but her movements were jagged, stiff.

"I'm sorry, perhaps that was tactless. But I assure you, this is purely for the sake of… fun. So we're in agreement, then? Your place? When?"

Naomi consulted her mental calendar. "Thursday night. 8:00. I live in 2B."

"Sounds like a plan. Perhaps afterwards I can persuade you with a late-night cup of coffee, somewhere?"

"We'll see how it goes, Beyond." _I doubt you'll be going _anywhere _with the limp I'm going to give you. _

"I didn't hear a 'no'." He was grinning again—and this smile was distinctly predatory. "Shall we exchange digits then, synchronize our watches?"

"No, just don't be late," Naomi responded, lifting up her sleeve and glancing at her wrist-watch. "Now, I really ought to get back to shopping. Do me a favor and _don't _follow me." And abruptly she turned to go, B smirking at her retreating back as she went.


	4. take everything left from me

**A/N: **short chapter is short! But I decided to post what little ficlet I have anyway, because I just finished completed my NaNoWriMo the other day and it's time to get back to other pieces I've neglected for entirely too long. This is mostly here to show you that, no, I have not abandoned CoBA outright just yet ;) I promise to more active for the month of December! Thanks for all the love so far, you guys!

--

Of course, it was 8PM _exactly _on Thursday night when Naomi Misora's doorbell rang.

_And here I was thinking I'd get lucky and he wouldn't show up, _Naomi thought with a sigh as she stopped her pacing and made a beeline for the door. She kept the chain in place but let it fall open an inch so she could peer out into the hallway. An enormous scarlet eye peered intently back at her through the space provided, and Naomi involuntarily took a step back.

B leaned back so that she could see the palely mottled skin of his face. He grinned crookedly at her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He certainly didn't look sorry; Naomi all but slammed the door on his face. Her hands were trembling as she undid the chain before reluctantly opening the door again. B stood slouched and barefoot before her, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jaded denim jeans. Naomi's chocolate-colored eyes swept over him, taking in his every facet - the deliberate disarray of his hair, the overly hunched shoulders, the traces of dark circles under his eyes. His skin was paler than usual, the burn scars less visible than she remembered them being from their encounter several days prior.

"You try too hard," Naomi said, shaking her head disdainfully at him. "You don't look like L - you look like a _caricature_ of him. His posture isn't _that_ bad, and he has a perpetual case of bedhead; his hair is not _purposely_ styled to look like that."

She had hoped to wipe that leery smirk off of his face, but her nitpicking was met with no discoverable difference on Beyond's behalf. He gave her a half-hearted shrug, still smiling. "If L is a freak, then B is a super freak."

"If that's the case, then you should probably be thinner, not _wider_. You're too fat to be L."

_That worked. _Naomi felt a smile of her own blossoming as B's immediately disappeared.

"Are you wearing foundation?" Naomi asked sweetly as she stepped aside, inviting Beyond in. He shuffled past Naomi without so much as a glance in her direction, and the former FBI agent internally cheered.

"You didn't decorate this place yourself."

Naomi slid the chain back into place and turned around. "Excuse me?"

"Did Raye decide on this furniture?"

"I'm not very good at home décor," Naomi admitted tentatively. Something about the way Beyond smiled in response made her skin crawl.

"Really? You know, you_ say_ that, but I'm getting a very different picture here. Did you know that something as trivial as the way the furniture in someone's apartment is arranged can say a lot about the person?" Naomi found herself shrinking away from the dark-haired man, back pressed suddenly against the wall as she gave him a wide berth to pass.

"Raye is unnaturally neat for a man, isn't he?" Beyond asked casually, taking in the open expanse of the living room, completely devoid of any debris or clutter.

Beyond was right. Raye as neat as a pin. Still, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got it right on the money. "I guess so."

"No personal effects, hm? No pictures, family portraits, anything?"

"There's pictures," Naomi corrected, pointing out the row of silver frames on the mantle above the fireplace.

"I meant of _yours_," Beyond said sweetly, but he obediently shuffled over to the place indicated anyway, stooping down to gaze critically at the tiny smiling faces staring back at him. "I don't see any of your family, Misora. Or am I allowed to call you Naomi yet? Are we on those terms?"

"We _aren't_, but I don't recall that ever stopping you before," Naomi spat.

"I was merely trying to be polite. We are in Raye's apartment after all. I wouldn't want to offend his lovely wife-to-be on his own… _territory_."

The sneer he wears caused Naomi to get her hackles up. "It's not just _his_, Beyond."

"You might live here, but I certainly wouldn't call it yours," Beyond countered. He clicked his tongue as he turned away from the pictures on the mantle at last, smirking faintly at her from across the room. Naomi is suddenly conscious of the fact that she remained right where he had left her, backed up against the wall like some kind of cornered animal. Her obvious unease was not lost on Beyond, whose smile grew as Naomi's frown deepened. She stomped over to where Beyond was standing, just to prove she was not afraid of him. Beyond did not seem quite convinced of this show of bravado, and he chuckled as she stopped two paces to his left, glaring at him.

"This is a man's apartment. This is Raye's. Do you know how I know that, Misora?"

_It is not, _Naomi thought, but she knew it would be pointless to argue anyway. Beyond seemed determined to get a rise out of her, but she decided to humor him anyway, knowing that without her compliance, they would get no where fast. Beyond had a way of making her dance in a circle anyway; she had no doubt that he would simply find a way to steer her back in this direction if she refused to play the game. Right now Naomi just wanted Beyond to say his piece and then be done with it so she could lead him into the second bedroom and beat his ass.

_You're really going to get it now, Beyond. I promise._

"How do you know?" Naomi asked in a resigned voice.

"Because it's entirely too _white_."

Naomi looked down at her black sweats and frowned.

"So Raye controls every aspect of your life, it seems," Beyond commented, glancing around to take in his surroundings again. Naomi glowered beside him as his gaze lingered on the cream-colored couch, the glass coffee table, the beige leather couches. "I'll admit a certain curiosity, Misora. Did you decide to quit the FBI because you were getting married, or because it's what Raye _expected_?"  
"That," Naomi hissed icily, "is none of your business."

"Ah. I seemed to have touched a nerve," Beyond said delicately, although he looked deeply satisfied with his reaction. "Well, judging by your reaction, this will make for a much more interesting fight, wont it? I bet you're determined to take it out on my hide now, aren't you?"

"Definitely."

"You should thank me for piquing your ferocity." When Beyond smiled this time, it wasn't like the others. This was no wry smirk, no condescending simper. This was a full-fledged grin, open-mouthed and showing rows of tiny, white, pointed teeth. "Now you might actually stand a chance."


	5. do you want to kill me, or befriend me?

**A/N:** First thing's first: I dedicate this chapter to Maiden of the Moon and Redustrial from DeviantArt. The former for directing me to the latter: Redustrial did a vector of _The Charlatans of Burbank Avenue_, something I didn't even know existed until Maiden of the Moon pointed it out :D So thanks you guys! (Link to the aforementioned piece can be found in my profile.)

Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far!

--

Their makeshift dojo was an empty guest bedroom smelling freshly of paint and far too much air deodorizer. It was an unpleasant smell, a smell that reminded B of his quarters back at Atascadero, and he frowned. He wrinkled his nose as he followed Naomi Misora into the room and took a quick glance around. The room was completely barren, save for the heavy canvas cloth stretched across the floor to protect the plush carpeting beneath it, and a can of Febreeze on the window sill directly across from the door. Misora picked up the offending object and it into her armpit. "Wait here. I'm going to put this away."

She hesitated at the door, turning back around to get a good look at him. Smart girl; evidently she didn't feel comfortable leaving her back exposed to a serial killer. B fixed her with a crooked grin, playing into her fears. This caused Naomi to get her hackles up in return, narrowing her eyes at him before defiantly turning around again. B watched her retreating back, letting his gaze drop down to the small of her back, the lovely hips.

_She still walks like a man.  
_

Naomi reappeared a few minutes later, looking up his own form up and down disapprovingly. "You're going to fight me like this?"

B lifted a thin eyebrow, his voice dripping with false, honeyed innocence. "Like what?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Naomi snapped irritably, jabbing her finger at the faded, baggy denim slung low around his hips. "They're going to hinder your movement."

"And you're complaining?"

Naomi glared at him. B knew just how to get under her skin. "Fine," she said waspishly. "Easy pickings, then. Take your stance, Beyond."

"Please, call me Rue. For old times' sake, eh?" He teased. He liked watching the color rise to those otherwise lifeless cheeks, the twitch in her left eyelid when she became aggravated. When Naomi was angry she was especially beautiful, so full of chaotic energy and _hatred_. It gave him a pang of something fond for her. Seeing the look of concentration, the expression that promises him of dire things to come, he grinned. "Gets the blood boiling, does it?" He cackled. "Don't hold back, Massacre Misora!"

"Don't worry," his opponent snarled with determination. "I wont." She looked as though she was ready to tackle him; but she evidently decided to resist her more primal, basic urges, opting on something else instead. She came forward, eyes flashing, and B shuffled back with an effort bordering on laziness. They ended up circling each other a few times, and their encounter started off more like a sumo wrestling match than a sparring one. Naomi looked absolutely mutinous; B was doing his best to bite back a smile.

It's that maddening half-smirk playing on his lips that got Naomi to make the first move. She dropped down in an attempt to do a leg sweep, but her irritation has left her movements jerky and especially easy to read. B jumped over it, as lithely and as sleekly as a cat. He doesn't know much about capoeira, but what he _has_ seen of it firsthand has shown that it involves a lot of fancy footwork. The style was more showy than practical—that, combined with the fact that Naomi was very obviously crippled by a mental block, left B with a huge advantage. He could do this all night.

"Maybe if I had a bat you'd take this fight more seriously," B joked. Naomi glared at him. "Didn't your _sensei_ teach you any discipline, Misora? You're hardly composed. Surely this puts you at a disadvantage; am I correct?"

"I thought this was a _sparring_ match, B," Naomi sneered, dropping down and pulling her legs up over her head. B had seen this one coming from a while away, and easily side-stepped to avoid it. "But all you're doing is running away."

"I'm playing on the defensive," B responded smoothly. "That's allowed, right?" This time Naomi swiped at him with her elbow, and he threw up his fists like a boxer to deflect the blow. Naomi was breathing heavily, not from exertion, but from aggravation; he had never seen her so pissed. He loves knowing that he's the cause of all this strife—was _positively_ thrilled by it. _Do you know how long I sat rotting in that place, thinking about those red numbers scrawled above your head, Misora? I've had ample time to think about how you'll look when I finally kill you, and it's going to be so beautiful, so intimate._

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Naomi demanded. "I thought you told me you knew jujitsu."

"And I do!" B sweared. "—To a degree. Everything I've learned, I've learned from TV." Even that was a _stretch_—if B was allowed to be perfectly honest (which he wasn't), he had hardly watched any karate shows at all. And he certainly had never _practiced_. He had just said whatever was necessary in order to get alone with Naomi.

Disbelief crossed Naomi's face. She looked completely stunned, and her stance momentarily faltered. Then the outrage began to settle in.

"There we go—_there's_ that familiar tick in your left eyelid. I was starting to get concerned, Naomi! You know, you really oughtn't let your guard down so easily. Your defense was full of holes for a moment, I could have very easily—"

He never got to finish; Naomi took advantage of his distracted state to punch him squarely in the face. He heard a sickening crack and for a horrifying moment, he was pretty sure she had broken his nose. The force of the blow sent him staggering back; he bumped into the sharp corner of the window sill behind him and gasped as it poked into the sensitive small of his back. Eventually he regained his balance and reached up, dragging the back of his sleeve across his face. It came away with a smear of red.

"Is it broken?" He asked, a little concerned as he stared at his newly ruined white shirt.

"No," Naomi said, and she sounded disappointed.

"I didn't know you were left-handed," B continued, still a little bewildered by just happened.

"Ambidextrous."

"At least I know what to look out for, next time." He was kind of pissed himself now, although maybe it was not all that outwardly apparent. "You know, this was my favorite shirt." He looked up to see Naomi grimacing at him, watching the steady stream of blood flowing from his nose and onto the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you afraid I'm going to ruin your carpet?" He was sorely tempted to pull back the canvas to do exactly that. His _nose_—he can't fucking believe it.

"Let me get you some paper-towels." Just as she turned her back on him, however, B seized his chance.

"We're not through yet!" He yelled and tackled her from behind, rugby-style. The two of them were sent crashing into the floor by the door. Naomi struggled and writhed beneath him, like a fish out of water. Eventually she twisted around in his grasp so that he was staring down in her eyes. She actually seemed a little unnerved by his expression at first, but it only takes her a second before she starts viciously fighting back.

So it ended up the way it began—as a wrestling match. Naomi grappled for control, and B considered punching her back, _really_ breaking that delicate little nose of hers. But he doesn't really want to mar those beautiful features—not yet, anyway. It was still too early in the game. So he let her struggle and flail against him while he pinned her down with his more powerful arms. She was strong, but he was still a man, and had at least twenty pounds on her (whereas L would probably have eight—ten pounds at best; another niggling little annoyance to get under his skin, but he couldn't think about that right now) so it was pretty useless on her behalf to struggle. Then she pulled another cheap shot—her knee came up, trying to make purchase between his legs.

This time, however, B was ready, and he used his own knee to knock the blow askew. Then he forced her two legs apart and settled his waist between them in order to secure each leg on either side of him. Now the best thing she can do was straddle him, and so she beat her heels uselessly against his side. It hurt, but not enough for him to let up.

"Let go of me!" She demanded, and although her voice rang with authority, he could still see the fear in her eyes. The sight of it was intoxicating, and B realized for the first time that he was painfully hard. It became the driving force behind his next decision: he kissed her.

_That_ puts Naomi's struggling into double-time, and B laughed as she thrashed beneath him. "C'mon, just close your eyes," he said. "Pretend I'm L." She started to scream and so he bit down on her lip for good measure. Her scream turned into a gasp of pain and surprise as B tasted the coppery taste of blood that was not his own.

"There," he declared suddenly, satisfied. "An eye for an eye." And he rolled off of her.

Naomi looked as though she could scarcely believe it. She took a few large, shuddery breaths, and for a moment, B was pretty sure he had brought her to tears.

"Aw," he chided. "Don't tell me you're going to _cry_."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped immediately. "It's just the adrenaline." He thought was lying, but when he took a second look he realized that she was telling the truth. He found the parted 'o' shape of her lips as she tried to catch her breath positively inviting.

It reminded him of the matter at hand. "Excuse me for a moment," he said, swinging himself up onto his feet. He turned away from her to adjust the front of his jeans. Now decent, he twisted around again, to glance back at her. Naomi was slowly getting to her feet, as awkwardly and as feebly as a newborn foal.

"Need a hand?" He offered.

She shook her head mutely, using one hand to stable herself on the doorframe. For several moments, she remained as pale as a sheet. B waited patiently until the color slowly returned to her face.

"There," he said finally. "Now that I've exercised my power over you, proved to you that I _can_ kill you but _haven't_, can we start over? I'd like to take you out for coffee."

Naomi looked at him incredulously, as though B had just spoken Taxilinga. "Right now?" she asked.

"Right now," he nodded. He was pretty sure she was going to punch him again, until she set her jaw.

"Okay," she said.

--

_Taxilinga_ – B speaking Taxilinga is a nod to my favorite sci-fi novel, _Snow Crash_, by Neal Stephenson.

--

**A/N: **I usually like to reserve Author's Notes for the top of the piece, but I kept the majority of it down here in case it ended up being too spoiler-y. First off, I'd like to apologize for how long it took me to update this thing. I said I'd have another chapter up in December and it's nearly February now, so we all know I'm a pretty unreliable bastard. I'm not going to make any promises this time, but I'll do my best to be consistent with chapters, at least. This story is off to a pretty slow start, and at this rate we're going to have about a million installments. I could provide you with more lengthy pieces, but honestly, with the rate it's taking me just to churn these babies out, you'd just end up waiting twice as long.

I know this is supposed to be a BxNaomixL love triangle, but we haven't seen any L yet! I plan to rectify this next chapter, but again, I'm not totally sure. This plot isn't really that concrete yet. I would also like to point out that, sometime within the span of the next few chapters, the rating is going to go up. (Sorry, keem is a perv, it can't be helped.) So for those of you who don't have this on alert, you may have to adjust your filters do you can find it!

You know, I had more to say, but I totally forgot what it was. So we'll just end it here, and I'll see you guys next chapter :D


	6. wound up in a movie with no story

**A/N:** OMG two chapters in one week? that's got to be some kind of record! this chapter is pretty dialogue-heavy, but at least it jumpstarts the plot. :D thanks for everyone who reviewed so far, and i hope you enjoy!

--

What a pair they made: B, with a bloody nose, and Naomi, with her bruised lip, making their way out the front door and down the steps of her apartment. Naomi was still wearing her workout sweats from earlier, but she had pulled on an elegant, cream-colored suede coat with a fluffy collar to further protect her against the cold. It was nice but a little stiff-looking, as though it had never been worn before. No doubt a gift from Raye - Misora was no fashionista, after all, and about as bland and as lifeless as those pictures on the mantle. Of _course_ it was a gift.

_Besides, the colors are entirely too warm - and we all know Misora is a frigid bitch. _

"Aw, Misora, you didn't have to dress up for me, you know?" B teased as he waited for her to join him at the bottom of the stairs. He watched her slip her keys into her pocket before glaring at B from her perch above him.

"It's cold out."

"You know, back when I was at boarding school, I read a lot of psychology books. I wonder what they'd have to say about your choice in clothes?" His eyebrows knit together as he tapped his chin in an exaggerated show of pensiveness. Misora's look, if at all possible, became even frostier as she marched down the steps past him.

"Oh, I know! They'd say that you wearing a coat that your fiancée gave me is your way of putting a wall up between us!" B called to her retreating back, before scurrying off to catch up to her. "That, or you're trying to reassure yourself that what's going on here is purely platonic, or business, or whatever you're telling it is right now. Instead of a date, I mean!" B practically sang this last part out in glee. He had finally caught up to Naomi, but he was half-running in order to keep astride with her. "It gives me hope. It tells me that even Naomi Misora isn't totally resistant to my charms!"

"You're hardly charming, and I'm definitely not resisting," Naomi assured him through clenched teeth, "as there's nothing _to_ resist."

"Sure there is," B countered conversationally. "I'm a spitting image of L in the dark, aren't I?"

Naomi spun around, and B ducked reflexively, cackling the entire way.

"You don't look anything like L," she insisted in a malevolent hiss.

"Oh, what_ever _Misora, keep telling yourself that. We're only the same height, and the same build, practically. We only dress the same, have the same hair, share the same mannerisms. We only went to school together, competed against one another, fought and fucked one another--"

_That _definitely caught her attention, just as B knew it would. When Naomi turned around this time, her eyes were wide. He could see the revulsion there, and beneath it - unrestrained curiosity.

"Oops, maybe I shouldn't have said that." The wicked grin he flashed he told her something else entirely. "Gives you something to lose sleep over at night, huh?"

"You're disgusting."

"And you're as transparent as a transmission of light through a material," B responded happily.

"You're a pathological liar."

"And who are you trying to convince of that? Me or you?"

Naomi was still glowering at him, disbelief marring her features. "L would never--"

"You honestly think you know L well enough to come to that sort of conclusion?" B interrupted evenly, and suddenly there was no trace of that cheerful, playful demeanor he had been using before. "Think about it, Misora - you and L may have your midnight rendezvous, and that may give you the illusion of kinship, or intimacy, or _whatever_, but I guarantee that L holds you at arms' length. You think he trusts you, Misora? You think L trusts _anyone_? You're deluding yourself. The man is a _snake_."

He could tell that Naomi didn't totally believe him yet. But at least he had gotten her to _think_. "And what about you?"

"What about me?" He repeated with a shrug. "You want me to tell you I'm in love with him? Sure, love, it's a many splendored thing." He waved his hand uselessly through the air, conveying its meaninglessness. "But there's a fine line that runs between that and hate. And I would have to say that I'm straddling it."

"You're obsessed."

"I can't have L, so might as well _be_ L, right?"

"I couldn't even imagine you being in charge of all the world's major police agencies." If she was a lesser woman, she might have shuddered, but she was Naomi Misora, so she did not.

"Misora, the mantle will eventually need to be passed onto someone. It may as well be me." He laughed at her horrified expression. "There's a whole school of us, you know. You think I'm the only potential L heir who has an inferiority complex? I'd even go as far as to say that I'm fairly mild by comparison. The stress of it drives some of the kids to suicide. Imagine what the _other _survivors must be like."

He could tell she was unnerved by that little piece of information. "See, Misora? You don't really know anything, do you?"

"And you're going to tell me?" Naomi snapped hotly, shaking her head. "What's your aim, here? Why are you so willing to share information?"

"It's valuable intel," B responded innocently. "The Orphanage made me sign a nondisclosure agreement, so if I went public with it, I'd get locked up again. But you - _you_ could use it. I mean, you're close enough to L that you could blackmail him. I could make you rich."

"I would never sell L out," Naomi insisted firmly, shaking her head in disgust.

B resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Nevertheless," he continued. "It could come in handy. Knowledge is power, right? I'm sure you could make _some_ use out of it."

Naomi glanced around, as though she expected L himself to be lurking in the shadows, listening in on their conversation. And that wouldn't be too far of a stretch of the imagination - B wouldn't be surprised at all if this whole complex was bugged. Still, he was willing to take the risk. "How can I trust you? Everything you do is calculated for effect. You could be feeding me a crock of shit."

"You'll just have to decide whether it's a risk you're willing to take," B said, smiling at her. "And, considering the person you most frequently correspond with at the moment is L himself, I'd have to say that the odds of me being honest are pretty high by comparison. Think of it, Misora - right now, I could be the most honest person you know."

"A scary thought."

B would have to be inclined to agree. Then again, he wasn't the one picking out Naomi's friends for her. "My terms aren't even that steep," he continued airily, as he watched her vault herself over the fence and drop lithely down into the alley below. B followed suit, but with considerably less grace.

Naomi regarded him with her arms folded across her chest. Her expression was guarded. "And what are your terms, Beyond?" She asked warily.

"Oh, I just want to be able to fuck you at my leisure."

Naomi blinked. B had to hand it to her - the former FBI agent had a knack for seeming so coolly unaffected when she chose to. "At your leisure?" She repeated delicately, as though she didn't quite understand. B smiled pleasantly at her.

"Just, you know, whenever I'd like."

"We may have to negotiate that."

"Those are my terms," he insisted firmly.

"I can't simply drop everything I'm doing because you want--" Naomi faltered; she couldn't bring herself to say the words. B found her sudden bashfulness endearing. _Imagine that._

"Relax, Misora. I'm not going to be deliberately unreasonable. I will be conscientious of the fact that sometimes you can't drop everything you're doing in order to cater to my carnal whims. I promise our arrangement will not interfere with the sanctity of your L time. Trust me, little details like those are the _least_ of your worries."

"And Raye?"

"I was _wondering_ if you were going to bother bringing him up," B said coolly, and to her credit, Naomi remained as unruffled as before. "We'll deal with these things in due time. We've still got a couple weeks before he's scheduled to return back home, correct? Maybe even _months_."

"Maybe," Naomi agreed, although she did not seem entirely satisfied with what B had to say. The dark-haired figure suddenly rubbed his hands together, as though he had done away with some unfavorable dealings and was now back on task again. "Now, then, how about that coffee I promised? Let's hit up a Starbucks, shall we?" Naomi nodded once, and began leading the way down the alleyway. B set off behind her, smirking. "How do you take yours, anyway? With lots of sugar, so it's as sweet as you?"

"I take mine black."

"Why am I not surprised?" B complained, and that time he really did roll his eyes.

--

**A/N:** k so i know i promised we'd have some L in this chapter, but i lied. but next time everybody's favorite world-famous detective really WILL make his first appearance because dammit, that's where Naomi's headed as soon as she bails on B. hopefully i'll have another chapter for you by the end of this week, but it really depends on how motivated i'm feeling. xD see you soon!


	7. let's get these teenage hearts beating

**A/N:** Maiden-of-the-Moon made me another piece of fanwork that is positively stunning (and a little naughty, which makes it all the better) which is linked in my profile. You should all go check it out, righty now, because it's freaking amazing. On top of that, Redustrial is considering making an AMV for CBA to the tune of "lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off" which would be just AWESOME. so considering what awesome support (and -cough- bribery) they've given me, i've got to dedicate this chapter to them. and - as promised - we get our L debut! hope you all enjoy!

--

"Do you take shortcuts through the alley like this often?" B asked the former FBI agent innocently, as if he didn't already know. As if he hadn't been spying on her for those past few days, shrouded in the shadows, peeking through the gloom. She didn't immediately answer, and B reminded himself that Naomi was nobody's fool: if she didn't just have a hunch, she flat out _knew_ about B's newfound hobby of stalking his former enemy.

"But don't you think it's scary?" He pressed on eagerly, unable to help himself. "I mean, it's so _dark_."

"Beyond," Naomi said in an exasperated sort of voice, just as she rounded the bend. B followed her out onto the street, which was considerably more populated. Pedestrians milled about, oblivious to the ex-serial killer and his dark-haired companion. "Why would I be frightened? This is a relatively safe neighborhood. The scariest thing prowling around at this time of night is _you_."

"That's what I'm saying," B said, and that time Naomi really did turn around. B smirked at her, and Naomi looked the wiry young man up and down, as though appraising his worth. Eventually, she shook her head ruefully.

"Which is _my_point exactly," she said finally before setting off again. B had to scramble to catch up to her, and even then, he still almost lost her in the helter-skelter of the swarming bodies around them. Eventually he caught sight of her waiting for him outside of a Starbucks. B started to reach for the handle but Naomi was quicker, opening it for the two of them instead.

"I was going to do the gentlemanly thing and hold it open for you," B said, but he took the proffered door anyway, stepping through the threshold and waiting for her to follow. Inside it was considerably warmer, and equally crowded.

"Chivalry is dead, Beyond," Naomi said coolly as she strolled past him and took a place in line. B lifted his thin eyebrows at her retreating back before joining her. The next several minutes were spent waiting in line, while Naomi busied herself with pretending that she didn't know him. B wasn't offended, just amused. When their time at the cash register came, Naomi told the barista at the counter that she just wanted coffee, black, with nothing_ fun_ like cream or sugar.

_Sheesh. Why bother?_

"Anything else?" The girl asked happily. She was the exact opposite of Naomi, blonde and blue-eyed and cheerful looking. The contrast could not have been more startling.

"A chocolate chip frappuccino, please," B perked up, much to Naomi's chagrin. "And a squirt of caramel, too. With whipped cream on top." The barista nodded while Naomi threw him a filthy look. B smiled innocently. "What? I thought you told me that chivalry was dead."

And so that's how he got a free drink. "Shall I steal us a table while you wait?" Naomi nodded stiffly as she paid, and B wisely decided to take off. He wandered around a bit and eventually managed to snag a table by the window, a cramped, tiny little thing that he knew Naomi would _hate_.

And sure enough, she did. "This is a terrible spot," she announced a moment later, before shoving B's drink aggressively into his face. B didn't bother to argue, nor did he try to pull out her chair for her; simply watched as she yanked it back herself and brought herself down to his level. They were so close that their legs were touching. Upon discovering this, Naomi immediately tried to pull back, but there was another seated couple behind her and so mobility was severely limited. B tried to hide his smile behind his drink, but it was hard.

"You're not sitting like L would," Naomi challenged, but B could not be so easily deterred.

"That's so I can do things like this," B said, as their knees purposely knocked together. Naomi shook her head slightly over the rim of her coffee cup as she took a long, and probably scalding, swig.

"I love places like these," B commented, studying her expression critically as he did so. He loved watching those warring emotions scrawled across her face; Naomi was not an expressive individual in public, but he could gather just what she was feeling by watching those subtle little nuances dance across her pallid feature. It was an endless cycle—watching as the indifferent façade began to crack and crumble before her defenses were built up again—and utterly fascinating to observe. "They're so _intimate_."

Naomi glanced around the crowded coffee shop, and he saw that she did not share those sentiments. "Think about it," B practically cooed. "In large social environments such as these, people can't really mingle. The sheer numbers overwhelm them, and so they stick to smaller groups. Everyone's so involved with their immediate companions that they don't pay any attention to their surroundings." To prove a point, he slid his free hand under the table and brushed his fingertips across the inside of her thigh. Naomi was so taken aback by the gesture that she startled, and badly. She glanced around afterwards, only to discover that no one was any wiser to her reaction.

"See? What did I tell you?" B asked smugly, as he used his straw as a spoon and gathered some whipped cream onto the tip before depositing it into his mouth. He sucked on the end of the straw loudly, still smirking at her.

"Don't do that again."

"I thought we had an agreement?" B asked curiously, before moving his hand discreetly under the table again. He traced his fingers over the knobs of her knees before walking them up down her calves, where the baggy sweats had been rolled up, exposing the pale skin beneath. "You have nice legs, Naomi—silky and smooth and _feminine_, but with a lot of latent muscle underneath."

Naomi kicked him from underneath the table. B winced and retracted his hand, using it instead to feel what would surely blossom into a bruise later. "I'm sorry, I don't remember saying I _agreed _to your terms yet."

"Oh? So you're telling me you're _not _interested in what I have to say?" B said, as he raised both hands to clasp his cup around the middle. Now that his hands were where Naomi could see them, she visibly relaxed. He took this moment to start fondling her feet under the table with one of his own. He watched the tick in Naomi's left eyelid jump.

"I'd say you're getting the better end of the deal here, anyway. What have I to gain? I'm just getting rid of some information I can't use anyway, with the benefit of getting a little carnal indulgence on the side in return. You're getting something that could you can actually cash in on, plus the illusion of fucking your beloved. I'm not even picky—you could even _call_ me 'L' if you wanted. In fact, I'd probably rather enjoy that." He blinked, as though something had just occurred to him. "Actually, now that I think about it—I insist. I insist you call me L when I—"

"Beyond!" Naomi hissed. "Not here."

"Not here? Shall we take this elsewhere? Surely there's a restroom we could make use of in this general vicinity—shall we excuse ourselves?"

"I didn't mean like _that_," Naomi snapped immediately before looking around again. The general populace remained largely oblivious to the conversation taking place, and B nodded sagely as he sucked down the last of his frappuccino. Then he set the discarded cup aside and folded his hands on the table, suddenly business-like.

"Since you haven't really given me a clear indication either way, I'd like to know what you think of my proposal, Naomi Misora."

Naomi gave him an incredulous look, as though she could not believe that he was going to insist on discussing the topic then, where others could potentially overhear. "I told you, I need time to think about it," she said icily.

"I'm not hearing a 'no,' I suppose," B reasoned.

"And you're not hearing a 'yes,' either," Naomi reminded him tartly. "Don't read too much into it, Beyond." She reached into her left coat pocket and produced a cell-phone, checking the time on the front screen before slipping it back inside. "Well, this has certainly been fun," she said, in a tone of voice that suggested just the opposite, "but it's getting late, and I've got to get going."

"Going to see L?" B asked, moving to stand along with Naomi. "Why settle for a shadow when you could have the real thing, eh?"

"Green suits you, Beyond."

"Of course it does," B snapped, feeling vaguely irate. "What do you think the whole LABB murders were _about_?"

"Didn't you plead insanity? That sounds pretty pre-meditated to me," Naomi said, with arched eyebrows. She seemed about to say something else—some snarky or vaguely threatening remark, perhaps—but then she recalled the time and thought better of it. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow," she said, rather unexpectedly, and B lifted an eyebrow of his own. "That gives me a night to sleep on it. Sounds fair to you?"

B was rather taken aback by how reasonable the other woman was being. "How will we get in touch?"

"Like we did tonight. Same time, same place," Naomi said, and B nodded. "Now, do me a favor and stay the hell away tonight, alright? I'm going to walk out this door in about ten seconds, and I want you to wait here for a while before leaving yourself. Don't try to track me, or wait up at my apartment for me, or anything freaky like that. Just go home."

"Wouldn't dream of it," B said airily, and he knew immediately he had been right in thinking that Naomi knew. Of _course _she did—not only was Naomi fairly clever in her own right (if not up to genius standards), but her women's intuition was dead-on. Or maybe he just lacked subtlety. Either way…

"I'm serious, Beyond."

"And so am I," B responded sweetly. "I wouldn't want to do anything to upset you, especially since it could potentially deter you from seeing things my way."

"Nice to know that you're covering your ass out of self-interest," Naomi said wryly, as she started toward the door. "Instead of, you know, not stalking me because it's off-putting and wrong."

"This is _me_ we're talking about here," B reminded her with a wry smile, and Naomi found that she couldn't exactly disagree with his line of reasoning there.

--

For once in his life, B did as he was told. He waited fifteen minutes before venturing out into the night air himself, which had grown considerably colder since their arrival. He wasn't sure what direction Naomi had headed herself; whether it was back home first to change, or straight to the dojo and either way, he didn't have an immediate urge to find out.

When he got home the first thing he did was make a bee-line for the bathroom to check out the damage Naomi had inflicted on his face. It all ended up being superficial; B was surely going to sport a fantastic bruise later, but at least it wasn't _broken_. After that, he turned the faucet on and went through the process of taking off his face. As the foundation and the cover-up and the eyeliner washed away, the extensive scarring underneath became apparent. The sight of his ruined visage suddenly brought all the latent hostility toward Naomi that he had suppressed all evening come to a head; B was suddenly _furious_, and his hands gripped so hard on the rickety sink that, for a moment, he was pretty sure he was going to break it.

_I'm going to fuck her into the ground._

--

From the outside, the dojo looked dark, _uninhabitated_, but Naomi knew better. She felt in her pockets for keys, unlocked the front door, and let herself inside. L was already there waiting for her, his back turned away from her as he studied the contours of the silk changing screen behind him. His bad posture caused his long shadows to look strange and distorted in the dim light of the room, which may have created a vaguely unsettling atmosphere for some people. But to Naomi, it was quite the opposite: the air felt electric, _charged_.

She always felt a little nervous—and a little humbled—being in such close proximity to the world's most renown genius. And despite knowing that B's words had an element of truth to them—L _had_ insisted that Naomi teach him martial arts after all, despite having money to burn on a real expert—she didn't know if that made it better. It certainly didn't do anything to help with her nerves.

Just as she was setting her duffel bag on the floor, L finally turned around. When she looked up he was staring at her with an unfathomable expression, those dark eyes regarding her face very intently. L always gave off the vibe that he knew something that you didn't, and Naomi's stomach gave a tiny little lurch, a thrill of dread.

"Naomi Misora," he said, with a slight nod.

"Ryuuzaki," she said, because the dark-haired man had always insisted that she refer to him by his alias, even behind closed doors. L didn't say anything further, but he started forward, his bare feet making a soft swishing sound as he shuffled across the mats. Naomi swallowed, and met him half-way.

Just before their lips met, Naomi thought back to L's mischievous doppelganger with the scarlet eyes and the knowing smirk.

"_Is that what they're calling it these days?"_ She could recall him asking with perfect clarity.

_Beyond_, she thought as L's mouth sought the hollow of her throat,_ you don't know the half of it._


	8. put on your pretty lies

**A/N:** you all can thank Maiden of the Moon for this chapter, since this morning i told her i'd work on it, and dangit, i did! lots of L in this chapter but alas, no smutty goodness yet. (although i'm pretty sure it's safe to say that there will be for the next installment, so make sure you change your filters if so needed.) inspiration for _Charlatans_ comes and goes as it pleases, because i tried to hurry up and this one done because a.) i feel terribly indebted to Moon-san for all her lovely artworks, and b.) i'm trying to convince all my readers that no, i'm not dropping out of the DN fandom just yet. xDD anyway, i hope you guys all enjoy! everybody's been wonderful so far!

* * *

Afterward there would be no basking in the afterglow; L was a man with a lengthy agenda, and little time to spare. If the detective didn't sleep, Naomi was pretty sure she wouldn't see him at all – they scarcely had time to practice martial arts as it stood, and the time they found to fuck were brief interjections in an otherwise unfathomably hectic schedule. L never liked to discuss casework at length, but she could tell he was a little overwhelmed tonight by the harrowed look in his eyes, and the way he fought.

"Ever thought about taking a vacation, Ryuuzaki?" She asked him later, after she had successfully swept his legs out from underneath him. L was a quick learner, and a formidable opponent, but he still lacked the finesse that Naomi had: she had been picking holes in his defense all night.

"I can't really afford to at the moment, I'm afraid."

Naomi shook her head, hands on her hip. Although she couldn't say that she expected anything else from the greatest detective in the world. L looked especially haggard tonight, even for him; those usually dark circles under his eyes had become even more pronounced since the last time they had met up.

"Want to take a break at least?"

"Unfortunately, I don't really have the time to spare for that, _either_."

Naomi smirked at him and offered her hand. L, sprawled out on the floor where she had left him, gladly reached up and took it. As she pulled him to his feet he made his move: he used his free hand to clasp her by the wrist, wrenching her arm back so that he could trade places with her instead. Naomi saw right through his trick, neatly disarmed him, and sent him crashing back down onto the floor whence he came.

"Nice try, Ryuuzaki."

"Ah, it seems that I have a long way to go before I will be on par with Misora-san."

Naomi just smiled. This time when she helped him to his feet, there were no tricks. Despite L's protests to the contrary, Naomi needed a moment to catch her breath; L may have been graceless, but he was _brutal_, and so she retreated to where her duffel bag was in the corner of the dojo. She fished around within its contents until she produced a water bottle; twisting the cap off, she pushed a fall of sweaty bangs out of her eyes before taking a generous swig out it.

She felt his eyes upon him; looking over the rim of her bottle, she could see that he was watching her. L was a guarded individual, but she had spent enough around him these past few weeks to sometimes be able to read the nuances that flitted across his pale features. The warmth there was so thickly-veiled that if she had been anyone else but Watari, she may have missed it entirely.

It was flattering to be on the receiving end of that affection, and her own affection for him swelled in turn. Naomi knew that she was _engaged_, and what was going on here was very much perversion, and yet at the same time it was so hard to deny her more primal, basic urges. L was _L_, after all, a legendary character who, above being astonishingly intelligent, was incredibly persuasive. Naomi had a hard time resisting a feeling that was so immediately gratifying.

She had the sudden urge to breach the distance between them, run her hands through those tangled, onyx-colored tresses and cover his mouth with her own. But she knew better than to get carried away –there just simply couldn't afford another distraction at the moment, not when L had so many other things he had yet to get around to. The night was still young by L's standards, and genius had no intentions of going to bed after this, Naomi knew. And so she resisted.

"Alright," she said, shoving her water bottle back into her bag and zipping it up again. She walked over to where the wiry detective was standing, dropping down into a defensive stance. L mirrored her movements obediently. "Let's have another go."

She gave L the go-ahead, and he immediately came at her, legs lashing.

--

She would spar with him for another forty-five minutes before they were interrupted by the usual chirping of L's cell-phone. Immediately they broke away, and both of them knew without having to check L's messages what it meant: it was time to go.

"That went fast," Naomi said with a frown, pulling her hair free from her ponytail before re-tying it again.

"Well, as the saying goes…" L said absently, not bothering to finish. She watched as he retreated to where his belongings lay, scattered across table in the corner. They were all things he had taken out of his pocket before their fight, including the aforementioned cell-phone; other items included a wallet, nearly a handful of spare change, and a Tootsie pop.

"There's something we ought to discuss before I go, Misora-san," he said, shoving his wallet into his back pocket before turning around to face her again.

"A change in schedule?" This wasn't unusual for L; he was frequently finishing and taking on new cases in rapid succession, and so their time together had to be altered accordingly. She operated on his schedule, not the other way around – and rightfully so, she assumed, since he was the one paying her.

"Not quite," L said, unwrapping his Tootsie pop before depositing the round end in his mouth. "Well," he hesitated and Naomi lifted her eyebrow. It was the first time he had ever seemed uneasy around her.

"You're probably unaware at this point," L began slowly, "but there are some rather… strange… things occurring over in Japan right now." Naomi gave him a blank look, clearly not understanding, and L licked the end of his lollipop thoughtfully. "News is slow to travel at this point, but there is a suspicious amount of criminals suffering from heart-attacks over there."

Naomi blinked, and L cleared his throat.

"I, for one, am reluctant to believe that these cardiac-related deaths in criminals are mere coincidence. I believe it is the work of a mass murderer with supernatural abilities."

"Are you kidding?" Naomi didn't really mean to say it – it sort of just came out. L was right – she _hadn't _heard anything about this before now.

L's face remains as listless as ever – and she immediately knows he's serious. She internally kicked herself thereafter for her foolishness; of_ course_ L was serious—since when had he ever struck her as the type to crack a joke, especially one of that caliber?

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to question you're integrity, I…" She swallowed. "…It just seemed a little bizarre, that's all," she finished lamely, feeling embarrassed.

"Trust me, Misora-san, I quite agree," L assured her immediately. "And yet, this isn't something I can simply disregard. As it stands, just too suspicious…"

"So you really think there's, err, someone out there killing these guys?"

"Sounds far-fetched, doesn't it?" L agreed, nodding sagely. "But at the same time, I've seen some very strange things in my time as a detective…"

Naomi had seen some strange things _too_, and yet she still has some trouble drawing up the same conclusions that L evidently had. "Maybe there's some other explanation…"

"Either way," L said with a shake of his head. "I intend to get to the bottom of this. But the point of telling you this, Misora-san, is that I plan to leave for Japan tomorrow."

Naomi was actually so taken aback by the announcement that she took an involuntary step back. "Tomorrow?" She echoed, bewildered.

"Tomorrow," L re-affirmed. "I've never conducted an investigation quite like this before, so I can't say exactly how long I plan to be there. So in the meantime, we're going to have to put our training sessions on indefinite hiatus."

"Indefinite hiatus?" Naomi echoed hollowly.

It was L's turn to lift his thin eyebrows. "Unless you'd rather not? Perhaps you'd like to, ah, make a clean break instead? You've been a wonderful sensei, Misora-san, but I would understand if this interferes with other personal obligations."

_Like when Raye comes home_, Naomi thought. But dealing with Raye was the furthest thing on her mind right now, as awful as it seemed. "No, it's not that," she said slowly. "It's just... sudden."

"I understand," L said, but the lack of emotion on his behalf proved to Naomi that he didn't.

--

B had been waiting in the hall for so long that he was starting to think that Naomi was going to ignore him entirely. He knew she was home; all the lights were on. Just as he was trying to peek through her blinds, however, the door suddenly swung open, and Naomi stood glaring upon him like some wrathful Goddess.

"What are you doing, Beyond?"

Beyond straightened, trying his best not to look guilty. "Certainly not spying on you through your window shades," he said smoothly, and Naomi merely shook her head.

"I've given some thought to your… proposal."

Beyond inclined his head curiously; he thought for sure that she would try to stall.

_Then again, this_ is _Naomi Misora we're talking about. She isn't really the type to beat around the bush._

"And?" He asked innocently.

"And I've decided to consent, if you agree to just one little thing."

B was admittedly a little taken aback by her answer; still, he had no intention of being persuaded to alter his already generous offer. "This is not a negotiation," he reminded her. "My terms are plain and simple, and frankly if you can't agree to them, then I'll just—"

"Beyond, at least hear me out first."

B blinked before obligingly falling silent. He motioned for her to continue with her hands.

"I just wanted to tweak one tiny little thing," Naomi said. She paused, as though waiting for B to interrupt her, but when he didn't, she took a deep breath. "Remember when you said that I could pretend that you were L?"

There was another beat; Naomi seemed to be waiting for some kind of confirmation, and so B opened his mouth.

"I remember."

"Well, I just wanted to say, I don't want to fuck L. I want to fuck _Beyond Birthday_." B was not sure what shocked him more – Naomi's use of such colorful language, or the fact that she wasn't interested in playing pretend. After getting over his initial surprise, B's eyes narrowed slightly.

_Did I mess up somewhere? Maybe I wasn't that far from the truth when I was teasing her. Maybe she already _has_ the real thing…_

B frowned as he scrutinized her face.

_Then what could she possibly want with _me_?_

"I want to meet the real Beyond Birthday. No more slouched postures, deliberately mussed hair, no more make-up. No more _doppelgangers_." She folded her arms across her chest and leaned her shoulder against the door as she watched his face intently. "Those are _my_ conditions."

"…Oh."

"You're doing a terrible job playing L's part, anyway," Naomi felt necessary to point out. B immediately regained composure at the condescending sound of her voice, standing up a little straighter.

"I'm sorry, I spent the last year and a half in a mental facility. Forgive me if I'm a little out of _practice_," he sneered.

"…I was going to say, I like you better when you're slipping up. Like now."

B very nearly put his thumb in his mouth before he remembered that was something_ L_ would do. He quickly shoved both hands into his pockets. "My," he said, shaking his head incredulously. "My, my, my! I suppose that shouldn't be _too_ hard to arrange. Although I must admit, I'm a little taken aback by this unexpected plot twist."

Naomi allowed a small smile.

"Although I should probably warn you, I'm not sure you're really going to _like _the real Beyond Birthday."

Naomi's smile immediately disappeared. "Well, what do you care? That will be my problem, wont it?"

B lifted an eyebrow. "Just making sure you aren't thinking about dropping out, Misora." He nodded to her. "So, when shall this all take effect?"

"We'll have our first… encounter… tomorrow," Naomi said slowly. "Give you time to go home and get out of character for now."

B smirked. "Sure. I'll see you tomorrow, then? Same time, same place?"

"Actually, I was thinking that perhaps we could meet up at _your_ place."

B actually mulled that one over before coming to a decision. "Unfortunately, I must decline. I don't want you to drop dead from a sensory overload."

"That confident, eh?"

"Remember, Misora," B said as he leaned in, dropping his voice down to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm a _monster_."

Naomi did her best to appear nonplussed. "Fine, then," she said, looking vaguely irate. "My place then. Same place, same place." She nodded assent.

"Alright, then. I'll be seeing you." B was already on his way out; without glancing back, he threw one arm into the air. "Toodles!"

"Oh, and Beyond?" Misora's voice drifted down the hallway after him. B paused at the stairwell and reluctantly looked over his shoulder back at her.

"Buy yourself a change of clothes for tomorrow, okay?"

B chuckled. "Don't worry, Misora, I promise you'll get the real enchilada." And he went on his merry way.


	9. the only company i seek is misery

It is only later on that Naomi thought that she had made a grave mistake.

--

Meanwhile, Beyond would be having some reservations of his own. He couldn't help but feel as though he had somehow been _had_, hours later, after the initial euphoria had faded away. Naomi had agreed to his terms far too readily for his liking: there had been entirely too little _struggle_. "Too neat, too convenient," he murmured to himself, as he made his way into his tiny, cramped bathroom. As he wiped away the remains of his foundation with a wetted bath towel, he pondered the notion of her terms. The way she had flipped it on him, right there at the very end, left him with an ominous feeling.

Beyond was not used to trepidation. He was a man who favored elaborately crafted plans with a considerable amount of forethought put into them. After all, if he hadn't been, he wouldn't have enjoyed nearly the relative success he did with the Wara Ningyo murders. The niggling sensation that Misora may have turned the tables with her little _suggestion_ left him understandably wary.

Preparing himself to look like L every day was like a striptease in reverse; now, staring at the ruined visage that served as his face, B felt stifled, malcontent. B had always felt uncomfortable in his skin; he would rather wear L's as a mask than reveal his true form.

_This is what Misora wants? _He thought critically, running his calloused fingers over the rigid burn marks, and then watching as his reflection did the same. _Is this some sort of joke?_

…_Or maybe a game?_

A smirk tugged at corner of his mouth. B liked games. But he could not – _would_ not—allow himself to lose to Misora again.

--

Naomi felt like a death row inmate, the night before her scheduled execution. She knew that this tangled web she had allowed herself to weave could prove to be very problematic; moreover, having an affair with B felt wrong in a way that it hadn't with L. With L, Naomi had distanced the relationship from her home – it was undeniable that she had some sort of emotional investment in it, but at the same time she could treat it professionally, like a fulfilling the requirements specified in a 'Wanted' ad in the paper. L was exceptional; and in that, he was an _exception_. Sleeping with L didn't inspire the same notion of perversity that the mere _thought_ of sleeping with B did.

Then again, L wasn't a sociopathic serial killer like his successor was, either.

For a while, she wondered just what had possessed her to strike such a deal with B; but then she thought of L, boarding his plane to travel overseas, and she immediately remembered. She had no intention of blackmailing L, as per Beyond's suggestion, but she did find herself with an insatiable curiosity – the burning desire to learn more about the elusive detective. B was like Pandora's box, and she was anxious to know its secrets, even at the cost of her innocence.

The doorbell rang, and Naomi swung herself out of one of those overstuffed easy-chairs Raye had insisted on buying for their living room. She tried to school her expression into one of cool indifference, trying to ignore how clammy her hands felt when she opened the front door.

Naomi wasn't sure of what to expect when she opened the door—Beyond in blood-stained, tattered rags; B in bondage gear; B in black latex and a surgical mask—whatever awful imagery her brain had so helpfully offered, it didn't even remotely compare to what she actually got. B looked—well, he looked _norma_l, to be perfectly honest, and that very fact in itself managed to be both relieving and disappointing at the same time. What immediately struck the former FBI agent was how similar-looking to L he remained, even when he wasn't trying.

Beyond stood before her, hands in his pockets. Evidently the 'real' B was quite fashionable; he was sporting a pair of dark denim jeans, still slightly stiff from its newness, and a ribbed, black turtleneck, slim-cut. The lines of the long-sleeved shirt were flattering; it made Beyond appear taller and trimmer than he actually was. That fat Naomi had jibed to him about actually appeared to be all muscle and bone – there was no doubt that the raven-haired prodigy was built sturdier than L, but there was nothing unseemly about it. As far as Naomi could make out, there was no discernable flab. B was remarkably well-built, she realized.

His hair was still wet from a recent shower. Dewy, wispy strands fell into those brilliant scarlet optics of his, as untidy as ever—but Naomi attributed that more to his cut than anything else. Even with the violent cross-hatching marks marring his face, B was still not unpleasant to look at by any stretch of the imagination. Naomi wasn't sure if it was his resemblance to L that attracted her to him, or if it was her own sudden, twisted infatuation with something so obviously taboo.

B looked a little uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny. Beyond, vulnerable—now that was something Naomi could get used to. The mere thought brought a smile to her lips, and when B saw, his expression darkened before he immediately regained his bearings.

"Misora," he said in clipped tones. "You're staring."

_Oh? So we're back to 'Misora' now?_ This only made Naomi's smile grow larger.

"Forgive me." She bowed steeply in a parody of excessive Japanese politeness. When she raised her gaze to meet him again, Beyond was giving her a highly mistrustful look, as though he was somehow able to sift through her thoughts and dissatisfied with what he had found there. "I just didn't expect you to look so… unspectacular."

She had expected Beyond to bristle at the comment, but he didn't. Instead, he fixed her with a slow smile of his own. "Please. I wouldn't be so daft as to make myself_ that_ obvious. In looking unassuming, I can hide in plain sight. This is the best disguise for a serial killer, don't you agree?"

Naomi frowned. "I thought our agreement was that I got to meet the real Beyond Birthday," she reminded him sourly, fully prepared to pull out of their agreement so early in the game

"And you are," B assured her with a grand gesture. "This is au naturale, I promise."

Naomi remained faintly puzzled. Evidently it must have shown, because B quickly followed up with: "You don't have to necessarily look like a freak to _be_ a freak, Misora."

"Very reassuring," the former FBI agent intoned dryly, folding her arms. "There's just one thing I still don't quite understand, however."

B lifted his good eyebrow curiously. "And what is that?"

She hated the way he said her name: it sounded so _condescending_. "If you really subscribe to what you say, then why did you take after L for the LABB murders? He's hardly what you call inconspicuous."

"It had its practical applications," B said, gazing up at the ceiling as though reflecting upon something fond. "As you know, the whole point of the Los Angeles BB Murder cases were to prove my superiority over L. At the same time, I wanted to really rub it in L's face; I wanted to make sure that he knew it was me behind all those grisly deaths, without necessarily being able to pin them to me." He shrugged. "That's the long answer, anyway. Mostly I did it simply to amuse myself."

Naomi tried not to stare. B was the only person she knew who could use 'grisly murders' and 'amuse' in the same breath and be some completely serious. B broke the awkward silence that followed with a sickeningly sweet smile. "What's wrong, Misora? Cat got your tongue?"

"I'm just not sure how I feel about being reminded that I'm about to sleep with a murderer."

"And yet you were the one who insisted on meeting the 'real' Beyond Birthday. Satisfied?" Naomi had nothing to say to that: he was right, after all. He rocked back and forth on his heels, suddenly impatient. "Well, are you going to invite me in, or what?"

"Or what," she responded sourly, but she moved aside anyway to let him in.

B made a big production of walking around her apartment again, examining the furniture with reflective little 'hmm's and 'interesting's before moving to the row of pictures that adorned the mantle. Naomi's own eyes flitted anxiously after him, feeling annoyed and more than a little wary. "Should we turn these pictures around?" B asked very seriously, glancing over his shoulder back at her as he indicated a portrait of Raye standing with his arms around his parents. "Maybe we shouldn't subject Mr. Penbar to such rampant debauchery. It might offend his sense of personal ethos."

Naomi very openly rolled her eyes. "Come on, Beyond. Let's hurry up and get this over with."

B grinned at her. "You might as well _relax_ and try to enjoy it when the time comes, Misora. Don't forget: this part of our little negotiation does not cater to _your _whims. I have every intention of getting my fill."

The bland, almost clinical way he put it gave Naomi an unpleasant tingle. "Well, let's at least go to the bedroom to where it's comfortable." She turned away from him to lead the way.

"No," Beyond said suddenly, and Naomi turned back from where she stood in the hall. She turned on the spot to glance back at him, but he wasn't looking at her. "I want to do it here, right on the floor in your living room." He started to put the picture face-down on the mantle, apparently changed his mind, and set it upright again. "And I want Mr. Penbar and his parents to watch, I've decided. Yes." He nodded to himself before finally deigning her with a glance. "Yes, I find this arrangement most gratifying."

Naomi shifted uncomfortably on the spot. _Freak_, she thought. For a minute, the two of them simply watched one another; then B lifted one eyebrow expectantly.

"Well?"

Steeling herself for what was surely coming next, Naomi obliged. They were now within scant inches of one another. Naomi could smell B's breath upon her; it was refreshingly minty, not sour like she had imagined in her head. Beyond lifted one hand to touch her and Naomi couldn't help but flinch. But the gesture was astonishingly tender; he lightly brushed the back of his knuckles along the side of her face. Despite being taken aback by his thoughtfulness, Naomi refused to do anything but remain rooted to the spot.

"Oh, don't be shy now," B cooed quietly. "You can be an active participant, you know. You don't have to stand there stiffly, waiting for me to manipulate your limbs: you're not a cadaver, after all, but a human being." When Naomi raised her brows at that, he rolled his eyes. "Contrary to whatever sick fantasies you may have come up with, I am sincerely _not _into necrophilia," he seemed to feel necessary to point out afterward. Naomi was not altogether convinced by the comment, either.

"Seriously." He kissed her then, a faint, feathery press of his lips against her own. Their shared contact was brief, and when he pulled away he smiled at her in a way that seemed to suggest that she had just done something especially humorous. Naomi was more than a little confused.

"I'm going to kiss you now, Misora; _really_ kiss you, with feeling."

And suddenly his hands were tangled in her hair, pulling her flush against him. The kiss was brutal; there was a clash of teeth as their lips met with bruising force and suddenly B's tongue as in her mouth, invasive, aggressive. His fingers fisted in the dark strands of her scalp, twisting, pulling – there was nothing that suggested feeling in this kiss at all, none of that absurd gentleness that he had teased her with just moments before. After he was finished very thoroughly raping her mouth with his tongue he leaned back, taking her lower lip between his teeth and biting down savagely. Naomi cried out and pushed him violently away, staring at him, feeling frightened and more than a little pissed off.

B laughed at the surly sight of her. "God, I hate you," he told her earnestly, before leaning in again.


	10. fuck me like you hate me

**A/N: **this chapter is dedicated to Sakura, who gave me pretty fanarts today. unfortunately i can't show you them yet, because she has yet to set up a devART account :pokes Sakura so she'll hurry up: but anyway, we've been officially bumped up to an 'M' rating. I HOPE YOU'RE ALL HAPPY. xD to be forewarned: this chapter is pretty kinky, even for me. be prepared for lots of hatesex!

also, i'd like to take this opportunity to announce that this summer i will be holding my very own fanart contest with real (yes, as in, tangible!) prizes. see my profile for details!

thanks for everyone who's faithfully read and reviewed so far! i'll see you guys next chapter :D~

* * *

Like everything else between them, it was a struggle.

Beyond was not gentle. He had no intention of being so. And although Naomi had consented to participate within the confines of this unholy union, she was by no means an agreeable creature. When he manhandled her, she fought back. She called him nasty things under her breath. He encouraged her by brutalizing her. He raked his fingers down her back and her sides under her shirt, leaving marks that would surely remain when morning came. And they had not even gotten to the main course yet.

Beyond locked gazes with her, and saw an expression of hatred written there of equal intensity. She loathed him just as much as he loathed her – was disgusted by him, enthralled by him.

_We're kindred spirits, Misora._

Beyond was getting impatient. He did not ask her to remove her clothing – merely did it for her, yanking her black tank top unceremoniously over her head. Naomi cried out as the fabric caught on her nose before he forcibly pulled it free. She slapped him. Beyond relished in the feeling.

"That hurt, you asshole!"

Those abominably ugly sweatpants she used for sparring came next. Naomi staggered awkwardly from the force of his hands upon her, and it took her a moment to properly regain her footing. Beyond watched her sway on the spot with clinical inspection that bordered on disinterest. He was a little disappointed in Naomi's own detachment – despite the humiliating state of undress, she remained proud, _haughty _almost.

B was losing his own arousal. Something was sorely lacking here.

"Somehow I expected a lot more than, well, _this_."

"You're not the only one who's disappointed, Beyond," Naomi said crossly, lifting her slender arms to fold them across her chest. Such dignity, even in such a state of undress! Beyond hated her.

"God, you don't even look _away_. You really don't have any shame, do you?"

"Why would I look away?" Naomi demanded hotly. "I'm not some teenager who's uncomfortable in her own skin, Beyond. I'm not body conscious by any stretch of the imagination, and you're definitely not the first person to see me naked."

"You misunderstand me. I need you to submit to my _will_."

Naomi's eyes widened slightly in realization. "Ohhh, I get it," she said slowly, shrewdly. "You want to _victimize_ me." A smile was playing at those infuriating– intoxicating – lips. "I didn't know you were into roleplaying, Beyond."

"I'm not." He took a step forward.

"Oh?" She did not shrink away from him. He watched as she gathered herself to her full height, straightening her back and peering intently up into the mangled features of his face. _Challenging _him. "Then do it," she whispered, breathing hot mint on his face. "Make me your victim."

It was that damnably smug look on her face that caused him to lash out and seize her by the throat, steering her backwards until the back of her thighs met the sofa in the center of room. Naomi nearly tripped over the pants pooled around her ankles but Beyond held her steady, watching in grim satisfaction as she struggled vainly against his unrelenting grip.

"Which one do you want to be?" He whispered dangerously, their faces now scant millimeters apart. She could look into the madness of his face – and he could stare into the fear of her own. Oh, the terror – it thrilled him. _This_ had been the reaction he had been striving for.

"With the route we're going, I suppose we _could_ fashion this after Believe Bridesmaid's death. We don't have a rope available but I daresay my hand is doing a _fine_ job of choking the life out of you, don't you agree?" Naomi, of course, couldn't answer, and Beyond just smiled.

"Or maybe you could assume the position of Quarter Queen? I could crush your skull, pluck out your eyes!"

Naomi's eyes were wide and glassy. Her face was slowly turning blue.

"And let's not forget Backyard Bottomslash," Beyond said cheerfully, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I could simply cut you up and hide the pieces."

At last he released his hold on her. Naomi's chest gave a great heave as she tried desperately to suck in new oxygen. Beyond flexed the fingers of the hand he had used to choke her as Naomi slumped to the floor. Then he began to leisurely unbutton the front of his pants.

"I think I'm ready to fuck you now."

Naomi glanced up from her position on the ground. There was none of that piss and vinegar he was so accustomed to seeing these past few days – only wariness. He could feel the nausea rising off of her in waves, and it pleased him.

"You're sick," she said, and her voice was still weak from a lack of air.

"But you wanted this, Misora! _Demanded _it, even. Really says something about _your _character, doesn't it?" He shucked down his boxers and sighed in relief as he exposed the whole aching length of him to the night air. It bobbed aggressively in Naomi's face, who immediately shrank away. "No need to be shy now, Misora."

Naomi seemed a little intimidated, and Beyond appreciated that, _really_, but if she didn't do something with her mouth soon his interest would wane. "Oh come on, don't tell me you haven't done this before!"

"Of course I have," Naomi snapped, tentatively taking him in her hands, which looked suddenly so _dainty _in comparison. Beyond smirked down upon her.

"It's nothing like L's, you know."

Naomi frowned at that, and B immediately knew.

_Oh, how_ very _interesting._

"You're still not doing anything," he pointed out, deciding to tuck that particular thought away to inspect _later_. "Want a few tips? Treat it like an ice-cream cone! That's what L used to do."

Naomi blanched. Beyond laughed.

"God, but I've always loved that look."

Naomi finally discovered that if she busied herself with the task at hand, Beyond would shut up. There were no minced words after that for a while as Beyond simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensations. He was a little surprised at the performance Naomi gave – he had always pegged her as the vanilla type.

He didn't let her linger down there for too long, however. Beyond hadn't indulged in sins for the flesh since long before his stint in that dismal mental facility, after all – and the majority of his time _now _was spent playing voyeur, and so he hardly found the time to relieve his own tension. This, coupled with Naomi's expert administrations, left him hurtling toward a rather explosive finish at an alarming rate.

"Stop." Naomi was a sneaky little thing – she ignored him completely, going at it with fiercer determination than before. Bitch – she wanted this to end prematurely, to skirt her duties!

"Hey! I said stop!" He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked back, mindful of her teeth. He shook his head as she merely regarded him coolly. "Don't think you're getting out of this that easy." He mashed the palm of his hand against her forehead, pushing her onto her back. "Turn around."

"Turn _around_?" She asked incredulously.

"Did I stutter?" Beyond sneered. "On your knees and turn around."

For a moment he thought Naomi might defy him – the look she gave him was so eloquent of disgust that he wanted to kiss her, or maybe spit on her. But then she obliged.

He didn't bother with his shirt – his pants were down, and that was all that mattered. He fell down to his own knees on the plush carpeting behind her, running his hand experimentally over one smooth flank. The flesh of Naomi's backside quivered in a most intoxicating away, and Beyond's eyes were immediately drawn to her center, concealed by the barely-there fabric of her lacey undergarments.

"You know, I never thought you'd be one to wear lace."

"Are you complaining?"

"Maybe. I sort of liked you better when I thought you were some kind of self-righteous, uptight bitch." He hooked his thumb through the waistband of her panties before gently peeling them down. "And here you were, this whole time, hiding your inner slut from me."

She tensed with indignation. "I am not a slut."

"Really?" Beyond said, using two fingers and lightly petting her slit. He watches the muscles in her thighs flex. "Look, Misora," he admonished quietly. "Look at how aroused you are already."

Naomi didn't say anything, but Beyond instinctively knew that she was seething. Could this evening get any better? Beyond grinned – it was _about_ to.

The dark-haired man leaned in, sliding his erection teasingly between her thighs. He slid one arm around her waist for support, and used the other to expertly unclasp her bra before flinging it across the room. He didn't glance back to see where it landed.

"I'm not going to ask if you're ready," he murmured malevolently, gathering one of her breasts into his hands and feeling the nipple there gather in salutation. "Because frankly, I don't really _care_."

Naomi cried out as he pushed his way inside of her. She was hot, _burning_, around him, and wonderfully tight. Beyond brought his other hand around to grasp Naomi's neglected twin mound as he brought his hips back before ramming them home again.

He felt her breasts, just for the novelty of it – not because he had any_ real_ concern for her pleasure, but because he liked the weight of them in his hands. It didn't really matter, apparently – hells bells, but Naomi enjoyed it, _really_ enjoyed it, far more than any normal human being should. Why, it was practically a sin.

(Actually, it _was _a sin. Adultery – ah, the mere thought made B smile.)

"Look at you, Misora! Look at what you've been reduced to! I can't believe you're getting off to this! And in front of the oblivious, smiling visages of your future mother- and father-in-law, no less!"

If Naomi had any misgivings about that, she wasn't making them audibly known. She was moving against him now, shoving herself back onto him. Beyond just couldn't wrap his head around it. That whole situation was so utterly bizarre, even for him. And he loved it.

"Has the magnitude of the situation impressed upon you yet? You're letting yourself be fucked by Beyond Birthday! A man responsible for three murders, and one attempted-murder! I tried to kill you, do you remember? I knew it wouldn't work, but I tried to anyway!"

He brought one hand down, roaming over the flat of her stomach before pushing it up between her spread thighs. She helped guide his searching digits to her clit with a hand of her own. She moaned as they made contact with her hypersensitive bundle of nerves.

"That's how much I hate you, Misora! Never before had I tried to deliberately kill someone before their projected end! But you know what? It doesn't even matter that I couldn't kill you. Because I can see your lifespan, and I know when you're going to die. And when that day comes, it's going to be _me _that does it! Did do you hear that, Misora? I'm going to be the one who kills you!"

That was all it took. Naomi ducked her head down, pressing her forehead against the floor as she came. She cried out and her muscles clenched around him, triggering his own release in return. Beyond gave one final buck of his hips before emptying himself within her. Naomi sunk down onto her belly afterward, and the former protégé slumped upon _her_.

_For once, I am having trouble distinguishing who's more fucked up here._

Once he regained his breath, he peeled himself away from her and rolled onto his side. Naomi did not move from her prone position on the floor, although she did turn her head to one side so that she could look away from him. Beyond didn't mind. There was no shared sentimentality here, after all – he still hated her, and he expected no less from the other side.

"I'm actually a little taken aback by how satisfying that was," Beyond said a few moments later, gathering himself up onto his elbows. Naomi gave a little snort before lifting her head at last to acknowledge her. She very openly rolled her eyes at him, and Beyond's attention was immediately drawn to the numbers scrawled in red above her head.

It took him a few seconds to register that something was wrong.

_The numbers – the numbers have changed!_

Naomi lifted one elegant eyebrow with the look of utter shock he was fixing her with. "Beyond?" She asked, unabashedly curious as he continued to stare with open-mouthed horror. "What's with that look you're giving me?"

_How?_


	11. automatic, i imagine, i believe

A/N: quick little chapter, since I haven't updated in a while.

Just a little reminder: **I will be holding an art contest this summer. Deadline is July 1****st****. Details are in my profile.**

_Also! _The aforementioned fanart by Sakura is now up on the internet for you all to see~. The link is in my profile, as well! Expect to me be plugging more of Sakura's art in the future, as well as any other fanart I'm given :p

I hope everyone is having a good weekend so far! I'm going to a Ladytron concert tonight, so I know I am!

Thanks for reading!

--

The arrangement would persist for several weeks without incident.

And then one night, after one particular romp that left Naomi with bruised thighs and B with a split lip, they're caught.

--

B actually sabotaged Naomi Misora's relationship with Raye Penbar quite by accident.

_It could have been a lot worse,_ B decided much later, in the quiet solace of his own dilapidated home. _He could have very literally barged in on us. All Raye was subjected to was the aftermath of the encounter._

_Really, he should be thanking me. I spared him the horror._

When he tried to explain this to Naomi the next time he saw her, she merely shook her head in mute disbelief. Unsurprisingly, Naomi was restrained, even in her grief; there were no tears, no emotional outbursts. In a way, B was grateful – he has never known had to deal with blubbering women, having very little experience in the matter. At the same time, B was also disappointed – it would be lovely to see Naomi lose all composure entirely – _really_ lose it – in a way that B had not yet been able to accomplish.

_Break, Naomi, break!_

--

Their encounter in the stairwell occurred completely by happenstance. B was making his down the stairs, sucking on the swollen bottom lip Naomi had given him, while Raye was making his way up.

Truly, B would not have given the dark-haired man a second glance if it weren't for such the obvious double take Raye gave him, the overly dramatic raise of the eyebrows. B briefly wondered if he had somehow misgauged the extremity of his wounds before he realized just _who_ it was that was staring so incredulously at him.

The shock of meeting Raye like this left B uncharacteristically muddled as he glanced back over his shoulder.

_Wait, what?_

For a moment the two regarded each other in various states of alarm – Raye looked horrified, whereas B was more confused.

_He must recognize me from the trial._

Beyond could practically hear the whirring sounds in the FBI agent's brain as he began to flip through the various scenarios that would have brought a well-known serial killer to his doorstep. And then Beyond offered him a lecherous grin, and Raye at last came to the most unlikely conclusion – which, ironically, was the _actual_ one.

He half-expected Raye to chase him, to threaten him with violence, at least_something_– but instead the elder man simply whirled around and made his way up the remainder of the steps, his legs doing double-time. B snorted and continued along his merry way.

_Figures._

--

B cornered Naomi in the grocery store a few days later.

"Just because your relationship is in shambles doesn't mean we don't have a _deal_, Misora," he reminded her, suddenly business-like. "You didn't forget, did you?"

Naomi, for once, had trouble looking him in the eye. "I don't think we can do this anymore, Beyond," she said, and her voice was so profoundly _sad _that Beyond wanted to slap her.

_I am not about to lose out of my great revenge because this bitch is having some misgivings!_

"Do you really care about that idiot that much? The man wants to _own_ you," he hissed vehemently, seizing her by the cashmere fabric of her cream-colored sweater. "He wants a domesticated, subservient housewife and that's exactly what he's getting! He's controlling every aspect of your life – you have no friends, no job, no _life_ of your own!" Naomi shook her head at the words, the limp strands of her dark hair falling into her eyes. Her dejected movements enraged the former Wammy protégé.

"What? Don't believe me?" B all but spat, pulling on her sweater for emphasis. "Then what the fuck is this, Naomi? _White_?" His voice turned shrill and a woman startled nearby and quickly led her child away to the next aisle. "What happened to the dark denim, the leather? Who _are _you?"

"Stop," Naomi intoned weakly, and Beyond ignored her.

"_This_ is the woman responsible for solving the LABB Murders? Really? This is insulting to my genius!" When it became clear that he wasn't getting through to the other woman, Beyond let go of her entirely. The sudden slack in his grip caused Naomi to step back awkwardly, like a marionette with its strings cut. She nearly fell, and Beyond made no move to stable her, folding his arms across his chest instead.

"You're disgusting," he said, and he was so angry that he could no longer bare to look at her; he turned his head and averted his gaze.

"I have to prioritize, Beyond," Naomi said, and Beyond wondered if she had any idea how pathetic she sounded. "What am I suppose to do…?"

"Make a fucking decision. On your _own_," Beyond growled, still refusing to look to her. "What's more important to you, Naomi? Raye or L?"

Naomi didn't have a response for that.


	12. do you think of him when we kiss, Naomi?

**A/N: **Just a quick reminder - **I am holding a fanart contest this summer, complete with prizes! The theme is 'opposites attract' and the deadline is July 1st. Details are in my profile.**

It's been a long time since I've updated this, eh? No, I haven't abandoned this - I'm just incredibly lazy. Smut next chapter! Hope you all enjoy~~

--

_The first time B met L he knew, intuitively, that it was meant to be._

_--_

Whether L meant more than Raye or the other way around, Beyond never got to learn. But the problem of Naomi's misgivings concerning were resolved quite neatly for the Wammy heir, regardless. Naomi and her soon-to-be husband's martial problems were put temporarily on hold, as Raye had been put on an assignment on Japan. Two days later after B and Naomi's encounter in the supermarket found Raye on board a flight bound for Tokyo.

"Japan, hm?"

Tonight marked the first night that B allowed Naomi to come to his abode. As it was a turning point in their relationship, he decided it was only fitting. Naomi took in the scuffed floor and the cobweb-swathed furniture without so much as a second glance. Beyond offered her a spot on the worn-looking loveseat, and she took it.

Beyond made strawberry margaritas. Usually such a feminine taste in alcohol would have surely invoked some snarky comment or another from Naomi. But she remained listless and immobile on the couch, a character development that became more and more the norm as the days dragged on between them.

_This is getting boring, fast._

"That can only mean one thing, you know," Beyond said conversationally, setting the two mismatched glasses down on the coffee table between them. "He's been contracted by L to go after Kira."

Naomi didn't say anything.

"I wonder if he picked Raye on purpose," B wondered in an offhanded sort of way, as though he was honestly pondering the notion. In actuality he was trying to get a raise out of Naomi Misora. "Or if it was just luck of the draw."

And for the first time in several days, it actually _worked_. "L would never parade Raye in front of a supernatural serial killer on purpose!" Naomi snapped vehemently, and Beyond merely smiled, pleased that he had touched a nerve. "L doesn't have a vendetta against Raye! He's not petty like that."

Beyond lifted his good eyebrow at Naomi's furious outburst. "Obviously there's a story I'm missing here," he murmured silkily, lifting his glass to take a sip from it, "as I wasn't trying to insinuate that L was _deliberately _putting Raye in the line of fire in hopes of killing him. I was merely commenting on L's faith in Raye's skills as an FBI agent."

Naomi flushed. She had walked directly into that one.

"I've always had a niggling suspicious," Beyond said, smirking at her over the rim of his glass as he took another drink. "How about we trade stories, Naomi? Your affair with L for mine."

"Our agreement already was that you would tell me these things," Naomi commented darkly, glaring at him.

_And _there's _that piss and vinegar I was actually starting to miss._

"I said I'd tell you what I knew about L," Beyond commented lazily. "I never said I'd disclose to you the details of my personal life. And since this part of his story is so intricately woven in mine, I'm not sure I'm willing to, ah, _share,_ without a bit of persuasion first."

"So what was your whole speech about fighting and fucking him, then?" Naomi demanded.

"That was just me selling it to you," Beyond said, and as Naomi opened her mouth angrily again to protest, he quickly spoke over her. "Have I not been fulfilling my part of the bargain, Naomi? Haven't we gone over multiple facets that make up the entity known as L? I _told_ you he was the first orphan to be taken in by Quilsh Wammy, who now operates under the alias of Watari. I told you he was born October 31st. I told you that he's a quarter Japanese. I told you that he prefers even numbers – prefers symmetry. That he likes blue more than red, but he likes red more than green." He finished his margarita and immediately reached for Naomi's as-of-yet untouched one. She immediately slapped his hand away.

"You're withholding things. You're supposed to tell me_ everything_," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"Did I say _everything_? Perhaps you should have read the fine print of our agreement before choosing to sign," Beyond jibed, and as Naomi was too busy fuming, he managed to snatch her glass away. "Sorry, Naomi. Some information costs extra."

"Were you planning this all along?" She asked, looking extraordinarily surly.

"Actually, _no_. But that was before you revealed to me that you really _were_ sleeping with L." Beyond laughed at the outraged expression on her face, before reaching between the two of him and lying one hand on her arm. "So let's hear it, Naomi. Tell me everything."

--

_It hadn't started out as a tryst. Naomi really did have pure intentions in mind when she agreed to take the job on – although later on, she couldn't say she attributed the same motive to L. Whether he had planned out their torrid love affair all along – calculated the percentages, played with the idea of probability – or things merely occurred out of happenstance, she would never precisely figure out. Even in having L, sweating and panting above her, she never broke any sort of barriers –because in the end, skin was still skin, a tangible barrier that effectively kept her out._

_--_

"Sneaky little devil, isn't he?" Beyond crowed fondly. "You know how the saying goes, Naomi. You always have to watch out for the quiet ones."

Naomi watched him warily and not without a touch of annoyance, waiting for Beyond to finish. When it became clear that he was through heckling her for the moment, she took a deep breath and continued.

--

_One day, L called for a breather mid-fight and took Naomi aside to talk to her. _

"_While I appreciate the time you taking out of your schedule to do this for me, Naomi," he told her seriously. "At the rate we're progressing, we'll both be here forever."_

_Naomi frowned at that. "Ryuuzaki, it's customary for beginning students to take things slow—"_

"_Forgive me for interrupting, Misora-san," L interjected immediately. "But traditional methods and what have you don't really apply here, I'd like to think. You know who I am, and what I'm capable of. Let's fast-forward a bit, shall we?"_

"_Forgive _me _this time, Ryuuzaki," Naomi said this time, feeling a little annoyed with being criticized by the dark-haired man. "But I don't think you're ready yet." She reached down to retrieve her water-bottle at their feet. _

"_Then prove it."_

_Naomi stared at him, still bent half-way at the waist. L stared back._

_Naomi unscrewed the cap of her bottle, taking a long, indulgent drink. Having been effectively talked down to, Naomi found L's confidence a little grating. "I'm not going to hold back," she promised, capping it again before tucking the bottle under her armpit. _

"_And neither will I," he responded in that same maddening, unaffected tone._

_--_

"Ooh, I bet you were _pissed_," Beyond cackled, looking delighted.

"A little bit," Naomi allowed, frowning. "Again, I'm not sure if I was falling directly into L's plan – if, in baiting me, he was setting me up for some larger scheme. I've always had trouble reading in-between the lines with L, especially at the beginning."

"Completely understandable," Beyond agreed, almost sympathetically. It was clear he was enraptured with the story thus far– elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward, keenly alert. "Please continue."

--

_Naomi had every intention of teaching L a lesson– she was determined to show the genius that that he was outwitted here, outclassed in every sense of the word._

Losing might be good for him and his super-inflated ego_, Naomi decided grimly as she took her stance._

_Their difference in ability plainly showed – L lacked the elegance and prowess that took Naomi years of tutelage to achieve. But in what L didn't have in skill, he made up with ruthlessness. He wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't hold back _either_._

_Brazilian martial arts were more showy than practical as a rule – still, there were plenty of moves that Naomi was pretty sure she could one-shot L with, if given the opportunity. _

_Unfortunately, L just wouldn't _give _her that opportunity. His defense lied in the fact that he kept her busy with close-quarters combat. If Naomi could just get _away_ from him, she could study him more fully, analyze his weaknesses. But L seemed determined to keep her from straying too far – and Naomi had to hand it to him; it was not a bad strategy overall._

_As the fight dragged on, Naomi started getting aggravated. Determined to end this quickly, their capoeira dissolved into grappling as all of the rules went flying out the window. Naomi thought she had him when she initially pinned L; he surprised her when the wiry man quickly wormed his way out of her grasp._

_L was on his feet above her, and Naomi immediately realized her disadvantage. She made a grab for his legs, determined to pull him back down beside her, but L danced just out of the range of her swinging arms. He aimed a kick at her, which Naomi had to roll away from at the last second in order to avoid getting hit squarely in the throat. Naomi threw out both hands on either sides of her in an attempt to push herself off of the floor, but L was too quick. He swung one leg over her and pushed her back down again as all of his weight settled on the soft plush of her stomach._

_There was a certain triumph in L's dark eyes as he pinned her to the floor. "I believe I have proven my point, Misora-san," he told her calmly. "Do you yield?"_

"_Of course not!" Naomi cried, seizing L by the ankles and vaulting him over backwards as she wrenched herself up into a sitting position. L landed, hard, on his back, and Naomi was not sorry in the slightest. Watching him sprawled out on the mats below her, chest heaving from exertion as he tried desperately to regain his breath, was immensely gratifying._

"_Do you yield, L?" Naomi asked, her sweaty features alight with triumph._

"_I suppose it would be in my best interests to do so," L offered at last, pushing back a fall of bangs from his face, "if I don't want any broken bones."_

"_Smart boy," Naomi said, smiling as she offered her hand for him to take. L gladly accepted such a gesture of sportsmanship, and she pulled him lightly to his feet. His hands were cold and clammy, and Naomi took a moment to consider whether she had ever touched him willingly before this moment. (His hug from behind in the subway station, Naomi had decided long ago, did not count.) _

_Justas she was pondering the notion, however, L covered her mouth with his own._

_--_

"Beyond, what are you doing?"

"Hormones and happenstance, hm?" Beyond asked thoughtfully, his mouth muffled by the delicate flesh of Naomi's neck. "No, that was definitely planned out, I'd say."

"_Beyond!" _

"Keep talking," Beyond encouraged, hands reaching up the undo the buttons on her navy blue peacoat. "I want you to tell me _everything_."

"This better not be your way of evading the question, Beyond!" Naomi hissed as the sleeves of her coat were pulled free. It fell as a heap onto the floor.

"Don't worry, I have every intention of fulfilling my half of the bargain, Naomi," Beyond assured her, pushing the dark fall of onyx-colored hair out of his way as he sought the hollow of her throat. "But you haven't finished your story, yet."

"But… I…" Naomi's resolve seemed to be wilting under the assault of B's mouth.

"C'mon, Naomi, don't be shy," Beyond cooed. "Don't you think of him when we kiss? Because_ I_ do."


End file.
